


Feet of Lead and Wings of Tin

by littlemisskiara



Series: See All I've Made: the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars. [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, THE MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH ISN'T ONE OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS THEYRE JUST KINDA IMPORTANT IN THE SHOW, Torture, canonical doesn't necessarily mean HOW they died in canon RIGHT? cause no, im lying, it's not as bad as im making it sound, look back at humble, seriously look through Humble's tags, so many rape tags fuck im sorry, so so so so so many, this isn't how you do tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4496745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisskiara/pseuds/littlemisskiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's very strange, for I know without a smidgen of a doubt that the harm I'm inflicting is mortal.<br/>That the demon strung up before me like a hog is seconds from bleeding out.<br/>Still, in this instant, I feel all too well.<br/>Whole. I feel like this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Carving up the son of mud who thought he could hurt my family without repercussions. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, blood pulsing hot and fast through my veins as their own blood gushes out.<br/>Almost in sync.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. BEFORE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the prologue and takes place right before Samuel appears at the end of Humble; in case that's not clear. :) I thought I'd grace you guys with chapter 1 of this part before I labor over the next bit. ENJOY!

(The End Of The World)

 

Cas and I don't fly far.

Just out the backdoor, still able to hear my moms inside the house.

That's a bad sign. 

I don't know why, but I know it is.

After what just happened, what was just revealed; I don't think they plan to stay. 

I shake my head and take a deep breath, trying to locate some courage.

“Soooo,” He grabs my hand, steadying me. That's normal. "Come for a walk with me," he suggests in an unemotional voice, a voice devoid of emotion. A voice _hiding_ its emotions. That's not normal. Tugging my hand, he pulls me along. 

I don't answer.

I can't think of a way to protest, but I instantly know that I want to. _Have wanted_ to since we stepped into the house earlier. 

Castiel doesn't wait for an answer.

He pulls me along toward the east side of the yard, where the forest encroaches and I follows semi-unwillingly, trying to think through the panic starting to swallow me. So much has happened in so short a time. We've gone a few hundred paces into the trees when he stops. We're barely on the trail – I can't see the house and we're isola ted. The evidence of our path probably disappeared instantly behind us, no chance of followers. There were no footprints, this I know because Cas swiped them clean as we walked with his grace-ful wings. 

Some walk, huh?

When we reach the place, Cas leans against a tree and stares at me, our hands still intertwined, arms length between us. His expression is unreadable. Leaning against the tree, he's staring at our hands with a sad air to him.

I take a deep breath.

Let's get this over with.

"Okay, let's talk," I blurt. It sounds braver than it feels. He takes a deep breath too.

“You know what I'm gonna say.”

“You're leaving.”

"We're leaving." He nods. “And you know why.”

I take another deep breath. With a roll of nausea, I know for a fact that I'm correct, that I've understood, and I think I'm prepared, but I still have to ask.

"And when you say we–," I whispers.

"I mean my family. And. Myself." He says each word separate and distinct. Like he's pacing himself. Like he's trying to get through a script.

He probably is.

He probably wrote this out earlier so that he wouldn't break down here. Now. Like I'm about to.

Oh, Cas.

I shake my head back and forth mechanically, more out of instinct than anything but also trying to clear it. He waits without any sign of impatience, just staring at the ground and at our entwined fingers and counting breaths.

It took a few minutes before I could speak can speak again.

"Can't I come with you?"

"You can't, Dean. Where we're going . . . It's not the right place for you."

“Somewhere Angely?” That gets a half-smile out of him, but it's still sad.

“Yes.” He confesses.

"Where you are is the right place for me." I say. The sappiest thing I could _possibly_ say. And the nausea in my gut is tightening, the panic outweighing the understanding.

_I don't like this. Shit fuck this is bad, this is very very bad,_ the voice in my head repeats again and again. I keep remembering those fucking words. _Alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination_. 

I love him. And he loves me. He'll return, I know he will.

So why is the panic choking me?

_Alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpha exterminationalpha extermination alpha extermination alpha extermination alpHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATIONALPHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATION ALPHA EXTERMINATION!_

“DEAN!” Cas' voice is like a bullet, his hands tight as they shake my shoulders hard.

My eyes fly open and find him and oh gods I'm hyperventilating.

“Shhh, babe, shhh. Calm down. Breathe with me. Breathe.”

But I can't. Chuck's prophecy and my own gut are twisting and I'm terrified.

I'm dizzy; it's hard to concentrate. Those words swirl around in my hea d.

I try to breathe normally, I really do, need to concentrate on Cas' breaths and his pulse and his _being_. To find my way out of this nightmare I have to find my way into Cas' arms and I do, somehow I manage it, I reach for him, willing my oddly deadened legs to carry me forward and I wrap his arms tight around me and I wrap my arms tight around him.

I thought he was reaching for me, too, and he was. But his hands entangle in my hair, holding me tight against him.

He leans down, pressing his lips hard to my forehead for an eternity.

My eyes closed, I breathe him in, burying my face in his chest.

“If you come with us, the Hunters will think you're on our side.”

“Gee, Cas, I wonder why that would be? Oh wait! Maybe it's because I _am_ on your side!” I shout into his chest.

“ _ Deeeeeaaan~ _ ” Castiel whines, and if he were more immature he'd probably stomp his foot as well. It's very reminiscent of a child whining “ _ Moooooom~ _ ” when they either want something or are being embarrassed. “You'll be safe here, with your mothers. You'll be happy – ”

"Oh good lord, shut it, Cas. Don't be ridiculous." I want to sound angry as I push off of him, facing him, and I do, but it also sounds like I'm begging. What makes it better is that, if roles were reversed, Cas'd already be on his knees by now. "You're the very best part of my life." 

"And you mine. I'm sorry, my world is simply not for you," he says grimly, sadly.

“Why is it that you can live in human society and I can't live in angel society?”

“Simple. You can't go that high, Dean.”

“High?”

“The sky, Babe. The clouds.” Cas answers, pointing up and briefly glancing there as well. I follow his gaze, understanding completely _finally_.

“Heaven?”

Cas laughs, boisterous and happy. And the sound helps.

“Not exactly, but sort of.”

“Wow.”

“. . . I'm sorry. I want you to come with me – _soooo_ bad – but you just . . . can't." He speaks the words slowly and precisely,  falling sad again, his icy eyes on my face, warm and watching as I absorb all that he's really saying.

"You do?" I ask, a bit uncertain and a bit giddy.

He takes a deep, unsteady breath, swallowing thick, and stares, unseeingly, at the ground for a long moment. His mouth twisting the tiniest bit. When he finally looks up, his eyes are different, softer – like down on a duckling – like the Arctic Ocean had become Hawaiian.

“Of course.”

“Cas, you have my soul. Remember that. I don't want it without you–it's yours. So you better fucking return, or I will hunt you down personally and strip you of that dreaded Alpha status." He grins, chuckling at me. “I mean it, I'll castrate you and fillet you and – ”

His lips on mine are the perfect “shut up”.

"That won't be necessary." The angel mutters against my lips. After a few more minutes of blatantly trying to eat each other alive, he pulls away, staring back at me without apology. His eyes are like aquamarine, clear and very deep. I feel like I could see into them for miles and miles, and nowhere in their bottomless depths can I see a contradiction to the words he'd spoken.

Good.

"Good. You leaving changes things, though." I'm surprised by how calm and reasonable my voice sounds now, since not long ago I _was panicking_. It must be because I'm so warm wrapped in his arms.

He glances away, into the trees, as he begins to speak again, watching for any intruders.

Protective lil shit.

"Of course. However, the fact that I love you and always will –” Cas begins, looking back at me and pulling me closer by my ass. Jolting a laugh from me. I retaliate by pinching his ass back. Two can play it that way. “– in more ways than one, make up for that. But I think leaving – for a while – will be good; and not just for everyone's safety. I'm . . . _tired_ of pretending to be something I'm not, Dean. I'm not human." No, he's not; as he speaks, the air behind him shivers beneath an icy plane. That and the fact that perfect face begins to glow from the inside out with Grace show perfectly well that he's not human.

I smile, cradling his cheek and stroking his hair, staring into the glory of his eyes.

"We've been human much too long, and my wings need a rest."

"I understand, babe, believe me I do. I just –" My voice's just a whisper now; awareness beginning to seep through me, trickling like acid through my veins. "I'll miss you." He just stares at me, and I can see from his eyes that my words hit him hard.

Because he feels them too.

“Shh, sorry.” I murmur, kissing him softly.

"You're too good to me, babe." I have no argument except reciprocation.

“And you, I.” Kissing Cas is like breathing air.

Fuck how'm I gonna survive?

“When you come back I expect a full month of _ME_ -time.”

"If… that's what you want." He nods once, sounding drunk. On me? Oooh sexy sexy. My whole body lights up and all I can feel below the neck is heat and all I can feel everywhere is _Cas_.

_My_ angel. "I would like to ask one favor, though, if that's not too much," he says.

I wonder what he sees on my face as he pulls back, because something flickers across his own face in response. It's a damaged, broken flickering, and even though I know _I know_ that I'm gonna see him again, my gut twists.

Before I can identify it, he's composed his features into something more pleasant.

More “I'll see you tomorrow and I'm not leaving because our lives are in danger and I'm _definitely_ not leaving the love of my life to face the hunters without me no no no no no.”

"Anything," I vow, my voice faintly stronger. I need to be strong. If not for myself then for Cas. And for Sammy. Oh gods, Sammy. If Cas is leaving then that means Gabe is too.

As I watch, Cas' frozen eyes turn to sunshine. Grace beaming out his orbs. The gold becomes liquid, molten, burning down into mine with an intensity that's overwhelming as the colors mix into a volcanic sea.

"Don't do anything reckless or stupid while I'm gone," he orders, afraid and concerned. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I nodded happily, cheekily, with a wink.

He rolls his eyes in return. "I'm not just thinking of myself, but of Mary and Jody and Sammy, too, of course. They need you. Take care of yourself – for them." _But mostly for me._

I hear ya loud and clear, babe.

I nod again. "I will," I whisper.

He seems to relax just a little at my admission, before he leans forward and claims my lips again.

"And I'll make you a promise in return," Those words whisper warm against me, hot breath intermingling with me. "I promise that this won't be the last time you see me. I _will_ come back. And I _won't_ put you through anything like this again. We can go on with our lives together. It will be as if I'd never left."

My knees must have started to shake, because the trees are suddenly wobbling. I can hear the blood pounding faster than normal behind my ears. I can feel the tears beginning to swell. His voice sounds far away, even though it's pressed so _so_ close.

He smile gently.

"Don't worry. You're human – your time is fast. I'll be back before you know it.”

"Liar." I snap and I can feel as he moves his lips, even as no sound comes out “I know,” he says. It sounds like there's something stuck in my throat, like I'm choking.

Oh, right, tears.

Fuck them.

“Well now” – he hesitates for a short second, then pulls away. “That wasn't very nice.”

Cas smiles; the smile tranquil and not touching his eyes. He takes a step away from me, now, arms unwinding and distancing himself.

Reluctance and sadness emenating from every pore.

"That's everything, I suppose. We won't be bothering you for a few months." The plural, though understood and known, still makes my breath catch.

Gabriel is leaving

Lucifer is leaving.

Michael is leaving.

The Novaks are leaving.

Even if it's just for a little while. I feel my throat closing up.

Whatever words I'm trying to say – words about hunters and hate and wishing and _don't go_ – make no sound, but he seems to understand anyway.

“We decided only Gabe and I would say goodbye.”

I nod, unable to say words.

"Take care of yourself," He tells me, and, on impulse, I straighten my spine, square my jaw; try to look the type of strong that my Dad trained me to be. There's a light, unnatural breeze as the air behind him pulses. My eyes flashed wider, sta ring openly at his hidden wings. The leaves on a small vine maple shudder with the gentle wind of his beats.

“I love you. Goodbye, Dean," Cas says in a quiet, heart-wrenching voice. “See you as soon as I can.”

" _No_ , wait – " I choke out the words, breaking my training immediately. Not caring, wanting him to hear, _needing_ him to hear me say it too.

“I lo – ” But in a flutter, he's gone.

And I end up screaming “Fuck” instead . . . maybe just a tad too loud.

And my dick of a mind makes me imagine very Cas-like laughter mixed in with the echoing sound.


	2. AFTER

DECEMBER

 

 

 

JANUARY

 

 

 

FEBRUARY

 

 

 

_FUCK YOU_

 


	3. April Fools

APRIL

 

It's April 1st, 2016.

I haven't seen Cas since the last week of November 2015.

I've received one message each month since then.

On the last day of 2015 it was:

 

_Happy New Year_

 

On January 24th it was:

 

_Happy Birthday_

 

On Valentine's Day it was:

 

_I love you_

 

And then in March . . . Nothing.

No message at all.

And now it's April 1 st  , already 91 days into the year and 120 days _at least_ since I last saw Cas ( _135_ days to be exact because I actually saw him the _17 th of November_ and FUCK).

WHERE THE FUCK IS HE.

Sam and I have been coping.

He didn't receive a message last month either and the both of us are concerned.

It's the start of Spring Break and I just picked up Sammy from his Academy campus. We're driving through the mountains, feeling the brisk air whip through the windows, and should be home by noon.

It's unusually warm, muggy, in the fog today, so the breeze is nice.

And then it's not.

The _crack!_ of thunder is loud and booming and then “SAMMOOOSE!” arms are reaching from the EMPTY back seat and slinging around Sammy's neck on the passenger side and I fucking flail and Sam screams a very manly scream as I lurch Baby to the side of the road.

NEARLY CRASHING HER INTO THE BUSHES!

Turning around fast as a whip, we round on our intruder.

Or rather, intruder _S_.

Gabe's hanging off of Sam's seat, nuzzling his cheek.

And Cas . . . well, _Cas_ . . .

I punch Cas in the face.

IT'S A KNEE-JERK REACTION!

AND the asshole fucking _deserves it_.

I just, I – UGH! I SEE HIS STUPID FACE AND THOSE STUPID BLUE EYES AND I JUST GET ANGRY AT HIM FOR LEAVING AND FOR NOT SENDING A MESSAGE LAST MONTH SO WE KNEW THEY WERE ALRIGHT AND THAT THEY WERE ALIVE AND NOW HIS GORGEOUS FACE IS IN BABY'S BACKSEAT AND HE'S LOOKING AT ME LIKE HE WANTS TO CURL UP IN BED AND NEVER LEAVE AND LIKE HE'S GOT BED HAIR AND HE'S WEARING THAT STUPID TRENCHCOAT AND I CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S ACTUALLY HERE SO I PUNCH HIM CAUSE IT HURTS HIM AND THEN IT HURTS ME AND IT'S LIKE PINCHING YOURSELF IN A DREAM BUT I'M STILL NOT SURE SO I BETTER MAKE SURE SO HERE –

And I slap my own cheeks like in that painting “The Scream”.

The _smack!_ is loud and resounding and makes them jiggle and throb and HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

“ _YOU'RE REALLY HERE!_ ” I shriek, scrambling from the car and then reentering really insanely quickly through the backseat and _crashing!_ heavily onto my newly appeared boyfriend, pushing us into his still-clinging-onto-mine-brother and kissing the ever-living daylights out of him.

He _ooomphfs!_ and grumbles about his nose that's already healing – damn angels – but responds enthusiastically.

“Yeah, we're here. And we've come to kidnap you!” Gabe yells and I pretend he's not here because I DON'T GIVE A SHIT GABE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND WHO I WANT TO KISS THE EVER-LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF.

So I do. I climb into Cas' lap and grind against him, punching a broken groan from the returned angel as his grip on my hips tightens, claws biting into my handles.

Our actions elicit a “Gross!” from either his brother or mine. I don't really care which.

“I've only had my hands for company for far too long!” I yell to no one in particular and to everyone in the car.

Cas' cheeks pinken as a lecherous smirk graces those canines, Gabe chuckles somewhere behind me and all I hear is a muffled “Hands and wings and feet and so many toys but oh _law_ dy is it not enough,” and a punched out groan in reply before I get back to snogging my angel.

Gods I forgot how warm his wings were when they wrap invisibly around us.

Insulating heat and getting my belly to go all warm and tingly at the perfect temperature.

Cas' cock is fuckin' thick and grinds up as I grind down. I can't stop my hips.

Cas leans back against the seat, letting me take the reigns, hands flying up to his face and hairline and rubbing in while he tries hard not to grip my hips and break them with how badly he wants to just _use me_. I can see it in his eyes. Pure, undiluted _black_.

All pupil no iris.

The moan I let out is probably doused in hellfire.

I can hear our brothers rough and fast in the front benchseat but I could give no fucks.

Leaning my lips against my angel's ear, my breath hot and heavy and so cliché: “If you don't get your hands on me now you'll never get another chance.”

Cas scrambles to do as he's told, fingers fidgeting over our flies till with a curse the supe just _snaps!_ his fingers and HOLY FUCK suddenly it's naked skin on naked skin and warm muggy body heat radiating deep into every crevice.

“Cas Cas Cas Cas.” I whimper, hips searching for any sort of friction.

When he finally takes us both in hand the silky smooth feel of his erection against mine has my eyes rolling to the back of my skull.

His strokes are long and fast, sure of himself but at the same time seeking release like he'll die without it.

I may be in the same boat.

My sounds echo, getting louder and higher the closer I get to peak.

Cas' lips on my neck are thick and puffy and so slick, painting hickeys on my skin in impermanent claims.

In the back of my mind I can hear Gabriel muffled through Cas' wings, can hear as his sounds grow in intensity and as he grows closer and _c l o s e r_ , the sounds tugging me _closer_ as well, in sync and in tandem and so thrilling.

And then Cas' hand is rubbing my head and “FUCK!” I scream.

Probably breaking the sound barrier as my hips rut, cock rubbing both our cums into his tanned stomach as he pours out. He's panting and rigid as his spurts are forced from his body by contraction upon contraction. Twitching and thick his length is hot against my own as we ride out our releases.

I can't spare a thought for our companions.

After a lifetime of heavy breaths and soothing touches, I hear; “Let's never tell anyone about this, agreed?”

And reply with a breathy: “Agreed.”

* * *

“Ow!” Cas recoils. We've been laying 'cross the backseat for near an hour – clothed once again, just drinking in each others' presence after our little . . . reunion . . . and I've been thinking and dozing and feeling his warm flesh and steady heartbeat and I just got annoyed again at their callousness.

So I pinched him.

More specifically I pinched one of his nipples and bit the other.

“What was that for?” Cas glares hurt daggers at me.

“For not sending letters last month.” I justify.

His expression softens immediately. “Sorry, Michael forbade us to.”

“Well, screw Michael.” I mumble like a petulant child.

Gabriel lets out a _delicious_ moan at that before his head pops up over the bench seat “oooh dean-o~, if you ever get the chance TAKE IT.”

I raise a brow at that as I hear sam snort good-naturedly, Gabriel sending my baby bro a lecherous wink in response.

“That good, heh?” I ask.

“ _O r g a s m i c_.” Gabriel replies.

Cas chuckles at the pun and I glance down at him. With a pout I ask: “What; you'd be alright with me getting fucked by your big bro?”

Cas tilts his head in that adorable fashion of his. “Why are you the one getting fucked and not Michael?”

“Something tells me he'd give me a lot more bang for my buck.”

Cas seems to consider it for a moment. “His size always frightened me – ” My eyes kinda widen at that I mean how big could the eldest Novak _be_? “ – but if you allowed me witness,” he continues, eyes trailing down my body pressed against his with a thirsty shine. “I wouldn't be opposed.”

And just

woah

“really?” cause I fuckin _need_ clarity on this. Biting my lip, I think it over. “You said his size scares you? So you don't wanna catch? B u u u u u u u u u _t_. what if _I_ wanted to catch _and_ swallow?”

“gods, _have mer~cy_.” Gabriel moans, face falling back behind the bench.

We're met by the needy sounds of submission then as Sam obviously distracts his own angel.

* * *

“What've you been doing since we've been gone?”

“Listening to _The Pinkprint (Deluxe)_ on repeat.” Sammy mutters.

“You say that like I'm the only one!” I shout back.

“We aren't cheaters.” Gabriel says, so he obviously knows the masterpiece of an album. “Tho personally Bed of Lies is my favorite.”

“No, you aren't cheaters, but you weren't here.”

“Besides, Nicki's a goddess.”

Cas chuckles, tightening his hold 'round my shoulders. “Anything with friends?”

“Mmmmh, let's see, we uncovered some rusted out motorcycles in Bobby's Salvage Yard which Jo, Benny, Charlie, Ash and I took the time to rebuild – each doing a different part that suited us – and have been going riding whenever we get the chance. They're gorgeous.”

“You'll have to bring them with you.”

“Bring them with us?”

“That's ri~ght!” Gabriel launches, jumping onto the bench's back and looking me in the eye with a WIDE smile. Sammy's head sticks out over the leather, obviously supporting his upper body on his bent elbows.

“Bring them with us where?”

“We're kidnapping you!”

“Uhhh – ” Sammy articulates.

“I thought we weren't allowed in Heaven?”

“We've been there long enough that we can touch the earth without setting off any nuclear light-detector thingies. See, like atomic bombs and things, when Alphas go all _alpha_ we radiate our powers. Thankfully our powers half-lifes are very short.”

“So you're no longer nuclear reactive?”

“NOPE.”

“And we can no longer trigger anothers' powers.”

“Yeah.”

“Trigger anothers' powers? What do you mean?”

“Like radiation poisoning? Our powers can bleed out and activate another supers'.”

“That's another reason we had to leave so rapidly before, because though OUR power points were detected all the other Alphas in the sanctuary were spared from detection.” Cas explains. “If we'd stayed our powers would have set all of theirs' off. Us leaving wasn't just to protect you two but to protect the entire peninsula.”

“Save the Sanctuary.”

“Save the Species.”

“I always hated that species is plural and singular. Most of the time I love words that are the same both ways but for some reason _that_ word always bothered me.”

I laugh at Sammy's annoyance. “So were _are_ you taking us?”

“Alaska. For now.”

“ALASKA?!” Sammy and I _SHOUT_.

“Spring's coming, and summer after that.” Gabriel explains with a shrug, like that should explain everything. “Gotta go where they won't expect us.”

Cas seems to notice my confused scowl because he chuckles again in that way that I've missed – not that I haven't missed every goddamn ounce of him. “Angels migrate just like birds. However, unlike birds we migrate in the other direction. Typically we spend summer's south and winter's north, so those are the directions they'll _expect_ us to go.”

“Why d'you migrate the opposite directions?”

“It's a Grace thing.”

 

* * *

“So, how'd the motorcyles happen?”

“We found 3 in the back lot of Bobby's Salvage Yard. Ash and Benny already had some so we Jo, Charlie and I claimed the junkies and rebuilt them and fixed 'em up.”

“Charlie?” Gabriel chuckles. “How did Charlie's first ride go?”

“Oh ho ho ho. _That_ went terribly.” Sam chuckles.

“You weren't even there!”

“Exactly why _you're_ gonna be the one to tell the story.”

“Story time!” Gabe shouts.

* * *

 

_Jo pulls over and cuts the engine, Benny pulling up just behind._

_The trucks are twins, one belonging to Bobby – which he was kind enough to lend out to us – and the other Benny's own._

_The four of us climb out, Benny and I heading 'round to get the bikes; two in one truck bed and three in the other._

_The 3 fully repaired bikes not looking out of place in the least with Ash's and Benny's._

_I smile wholeheartedly as I push the red bike around to Charlie's side._

_"Happy late birthday.”_

_“My birthday's in a month.”_

_“Well than happy early birthday.”_

_“Why do I have to go first?” Charlie asks. Her voice is normal and calm and completely unconvincing._

_“Because the rest of us can already ride.”_

_She pouts, giving me an evil glare. Thankfully she levels the same anger at everyone else. There's a hint of dark fairy shining through._

_I cough. “Are you ready for this?"_

_Her gaze softens and she takes a deep breath. Eyes closed, she takes another. "I think so."_

_I can see in her eyes tho that the bike looks intimidating, maybe even frightening to her, as she realized she would soon have to straddle and ride it._

_"We'll take it slow," I promise._

_I gingerly lean the motorcycle against Bobby's truck's fender while I turn back to get my own. Soon all five are lined up one after another._

_Charlie's is the only red one, all the others are sleek black._

_Her's is like a fire-engine._

_Charlie stares at her bike, biting her lip anxiously – she really does look frightened – and she refuses to look at us._

_I watch her foot kicking the rubber as if it belongs to someone else._

_The tempo increases._

_I think she's trying to psych herself up._

_I lean against one of the trucks with Benny on one side of me and Jo on the other. All of us just watching as Charlie eyes her bike, trying to memorize it likes she's been doing all through the restoration process._

_She's biting her lip again, this time while clenching her hands._

_She looks like she's determined not to cry._

_“Oh, Char, chill, it'll be okay!” Jo promises._

_Charlie's lip quirks up, shrugging while taking in another deep breath. She glances at Jo with a thankful kind of smile._

_“So, are we going to ride or what?” Ash speaks up with that slow drawl he's best known for._

_“Let's do it,” Charlie agrees, more enthusiastic than she was half a minute ago._

_Grabbing Charlie's bike, we lead it to the deserted dirt road. Now luxuriously debry free; thanks to Benny and me clearing it earlier this morning._

_She straddles the bike while Benny holds it in place for her._

_Once done she does as we'd taught her._

_Once the bike starts rubbing and she's in position, we begin._

_“Alright, this is it. First question's first, Little Sister; where's your clutch?" I ask._

_Her eyes widen a sec before she gives a truly innocent smile. No puppy dog eyes but the same affect._

_Rolling my eyes, I point to the lever on her left handlebar._

_She inturn follows my lead. Pointing to the lever. And letting go of the grip._

_Which is a mistake._

_The heavy bike wobbles underneath her, threatening to knock her sidewise. She grabbs the handle again, trying to hold it straight, but it's really Benny who makes sure she doesn't eat dust._

_“Gu~ys, it won't stay u~p,” She complains._

_Whining just like I probably would. Instead of giving a serious answer all I reply is: “That's not what a male wants to hear.”_

_She snorts._

_Thankfully my annoying banter makes her smile, taking away some of her trepidation._

_Benny is serious in his answer, tho there's a smirk twitching up his lips. If he were a stereotypical type of vamp whose fangs are always visible then I'd be able to glimpse a fang._

_“It will when you're moving,” he promises._

_Everyone's making promises._

_“Now where's your brake?” I ask._

_“Behind my right foot.” She answers._

_Uhhhh. “Wrong.”_

_Jo grabs her right hand and curls her fingers around the lever over the throttle._

_“But you guys said – ” Red whines._

_“We know what we said.”_

_“This is the brake you wanna use. Don't use the back brake now, that's for later, when you know what you're doing. Alright?”_

_“That doesn't sound right,” She says suspiciously. “Aren't both brakes kind of important?”_

_“Forget the back brake, okay? Here – ” Benny wraps his hand around her's to make her squeeze the lever down. “_ That _is how you wanna brake.”_

 _“_ Don't _forget.” I stress._

_Benny squeezes her hand one more time before letting go._

_“Fine,” She agrees with a grumble._

_“Throttle?” Jo asks. Charlie twists the right grip._

_“Gearshift?” I ask. She nudges it with her left calf._

_“Very good. I think you've got all the parts down. Now you just have to get it moving.” Benny says, so calm and collected and like a big brother imparting his knowledge down to his little sister. They're both ginger and pale, it works._

_Although, I think we all view her as a little sister._

_Except maybe Jo._

_There're times when Jo'll give Charlie this look. It's mostly when Charlie's in Dark Mode tho. When she's in Light Mode it's all sisterly._

_Kinda kinky?_

_Kinda not?_

_“Uh-huh,” She mutters, definitely unsure and definitely afraid to say anything more._

_My stomach's contorting strangely and I think my voice might crack if I try to use it. I'm suddenly really terrified as I watch Charlie go through all the pieces again. She names them off and checks them off a mental list over and over before she nods her head once and “I'm ready.”_

_Yeah, I really don't think she is._

_I try to tell myself that the fear's pointless, that she'll be alright. That she'll be perfectly fine and safe and that we're all here for when this is over._

_That soon we'll all be riding together like pros._

_I'm also reminding myself that I've already lived through the worst thing possible and that in comparison with that, why should anything frighten me_ now _?_

_I've already looked death in the face and have already laughed at it._

_So why do I feel like I'd be incapable of doing that same thing now._

_In the face of Charlie doing something dangerous; my stomach isn't buying any of my reassurances._

_I stare down the long stretch of dirt road, bordered by thick misty green on every side. The road was sandy and damp. Better than mud._

_"I want you to hold down the clutch," Benny instructs._

_Obediently, she wraps her fingers around the requested. “Now this is crucial, Char,” The Cajun stresses. “_ Don't _let go of that, okay? I want you to pretend that I've handed you a live grenade. The pin is out and you are holding down the spoon.” Her face scrunches up because that is a weird ass fuckin' metaphor, and she squeezs tighter. Benny smirks again._

_“Good, that's good. Do you think you can kick-start it?” I ask._

_“Dean, if I move my foot, I_ will _fall over,” She tells me through gritted teeth and a forced bright smile, she looks like if she weren't afraid to move a single muscle she'd have me in a chokehold; her fingers' are still tight around her live grenade._

_“Okay, buddy, I'll do it. Now don't let go of the clutch, ya hear?” Benny took a step back before slamming his foot down on the pedal. There was a short ripping noise, and the force of his thrust rocked the bike. Charlie started to fall sideways but before it could knock her to the ground Ash caught it._

_“Steady there,” the brunet encouraged._

_“Do you still have the clutch?”_

_“Yes,” She gasped. “Plant your feet – Benny'll try again.” Ash said, glancing at whom he spoke._

_This time, just to be safe, Benny puts his hand on the back of the seat. It takes four more kicks before the ignition caught._

_I can feel the bike rumbling like an angry animal._

_Charlie's gripping the clutch till her fingers are bloodlessly, no doubt aching._

_“Test the throttle,” Jo suggests._

_“_ Very _lightly.” I ammend. “And don't let go of the clutch.” I remind her._

_I watch her as she hesitantly twists the right handle. Though the movement is tiny, the bike snarls beneath her._

_The animal sounds angry and hungry now._

_Benny and I glance at each other, both smiling in deep satisfaction._

_“Do you remember how to put it into first gear?” Benny asks, reminding her of some of the short tutorials we gave while doing repairs._

_“Yes,_ M o m _.”_

_“Well, go ahead and do it.” He waited on her for a few seconds. Again, we can all tell that she's trying to psych herself up, so he reminds her with a prompting: “Left foot,”_

_“I know, jerks” She jokes, taking a deep breath, biting her bottom lip, sweating profusely in the cold morning._

_“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask. “You look scared.”_

_“So do you,” Dark her bites back._

_“Oh, I_ know _I'm scared.”_

 _“Yeah well_ I'm _fine," She snaps, kicking the gearshift down a notch. I raise my hands in surrender._

_Benny praises her before continuing with his tutelage: “Now, very gently, ease up on the clutch.” He takes a step away from the bike, then._

_“You want me to let go of the grenade? But you just MADE ME THINK OF IT_ AS A GRENADE _.” She asks in disbelief and annoyance. She's so concerned with what could happen once she releases that hold. There's no wonder with the metaphor he gave her._

_There's also no wonder why he's moving back._

_Why we're_ all _moving back._

 _“That's how you move, bud. Just do it_ little _by_ little _.”_

_“You're all jerkoffs.” Red Rider grouses as she begins to loosen her grip._

_I, as well as everyone else, is shocked to be interrupted by a voice that does not belong here. AT ALL. In this moment._

_And that voice is Shia Labeouf's: “JUST DO IT!”_

_“EEEEEEEEP!” She squeals as her hand falls off the clutch. The bike bucks under her like a horse, yanking her forward before succintly collapsing to the ground half on top of her. The growling engine chokes to a stop._

_And we all turn our heads to Ash._

_Who's got his phone in his hand._

_“My bad.”_

_And I fuckin'_ burst _out laughing._

_“IS THAT YOUR GODDAMN RINGTONE?!” Jo screeches at her elder brother as I double over._

_“Nawh just my text-tone.” He answers._

_Near us I hear Charlie going between amusement, pain, and fear as Benny ascertains how much damage was done._

_“Are you hurt?” Benny asks through a chuckle as he jerks the heavy bike off her with inhuman ease._

_“I'm fine,” Charlie mumbles, sounding dazed. For a second I think it's because of the mishap but then she mumbles “I can't believe that just happened” and I realize it's because of what CAUSED the mishap._

_Benny was pulling her to her feet now. “Sure you didn't hit your head?” He confirms._

_“I don't think so.” She shook it back and forth, checking, glaring at Ash as she does so. He just shrugs before checking his phone again. Every few seconds Shia yells at him again. “I didn't hurt the bike, did I?” Charlie asks with concern._

_She looks anxious to try again, right away, apparently, which I'm happy about, glad this first mishap didn't detour her._

_“'Course not. You just stalled the engine is all.” Benny soothes, interrupting my quick speculations._

_“You let go of the clutch too fast.” I supply._

_“Let's try again.” Charlie excites._

_“Are you sure?” We all double ask._

_“Absopositutely.” This time she tries to get the kick-start herself. She appears to be having complications, however, and has to jump a little to slam down on the pedal with enough force. Yet every time she does so, the bike tries to knock her over._

_It's reminding me of a dog that's really wanting attention and just keeps jumping on you._

_Banny's hand hovers over the handlebars, ready to catch her if she needs him._

Such a good big brother.

_It takes several good tries, and even more poor tries, before the engine catches and roares back to life under her. She's sweating now but now it's more from adrenaline and epic determination than fear, thank the gods. Remembering to hold on to the grenade, she revs the throttle experimentally._

_It snarls at the slightest touch._

_We each take a step back._

_My smile mirrors Benny's._

_“Easy on the clutch,” Jo reminds her. That said, she could go full throttle and none of us would let anything serious happen to her._

_“Ease off slowly,” Ash encourages._

_“I will,” She answers._

This isn't gonna end well. I can feel it.

_The wind growled against the roar of the motorcycle._

_I'm watching Charlie now, as we all are, for any miniscule movement and see her relax her hand by tiny degrees till suddenly, the gear catches and wrenches her forward._

_FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCK._

_And suddenly she's flying._

_There's a wind that wasn't there before, a rushing in my ears as blood rushes through me as I watch her take off. She leaves my stomach at the starting point; the adrenaline, stolen from her, courses through my body, tingling in my veins as she screams._

_The trees race past her as she becomes a red blur in the green landscape._

_But this was only first gear._

_AND SHE SEEMS TO BE FORGETTING THAT!_

_I can't see it, but our resident Alpha Vampire seems able to see as her foot itchess toward the gearshift as she twists her fingers for more gas. “No, Char!!” Benny yells._

_“Watch what you're doing!” Jo shouts._

_Their voices pulls me out of my frozen wasteland of a mind, shocked statuesque by Charlie's impending doom, and has me realize that she's reaching the curve in the road. Slow tho the curve is, she's still going straight._

_And with that: “DID WE TELL HER HOW TO TURN?!” I yell._

_“ISN'T THAT COMMON SENSE?” Jo yells back before I hear. “BRAKES, BABY, BRAKES!” Oh yeah, there relationship is totally, completely, 100% platonic._

_And she does._

_Charlie does most certainly brake._

_Except, instinctively, instead of using the handbrake, she slams down with her right foot like she would in a car. The bike is suddenly unstable underneath me, like watching a newborn gazelle wibble to the ground on its wobbly newborn legs, shivering first to one side and then the other._

_She's heading toward the trees. She's going too fast._

_A new roar enters the world and Benny shoots off beside me._

_It snaps me out of it again and I claim my own bike._

_Then we're on her tail. Followed by Jo and Ash and yeah we are so not gonna be in time._

_She's gonna crash._

_I foresee A. a hospital visit, B. movie nights galore, C. junk food, D. belly rubs and foot massages._

_I can see it._

_I can also see her try to turn her handlebars the other direction, and a sudden shift of her weight pushing the bike towards the ground, while still spinning towards the trees. The motorcycle lands on top of her again, still roaring loudly like a mounting beast. The piece of machinery pulls her across the wet sand till it hit something stationary._

_A rock and tree combo._

_Speeding up, we race to her aide. Once there we drop our bikes haphazardly – well, at least we know all the bikes work splendidly – and find her face mashed into the moss. First thing we do is lift the bike off her._

_“Charlie!” Benny yells as the roar of the bike cuts off._

_All the growling, even the wind, goes silent as Charlie rolls over to breathe, the motorcycle no longer pinning her thanks to Benny and I._

_“Wow,” I hear Charlie murmur, sounding_ thrilled _. Tho I have no idea why. Absolutely none._

_“Charlie!” Benny's crouching over her anxiously._

_“Char, are you alive?” I yell, looking over her thoroughly. Benny gives me an annoyed/amused smirk at my choice of words. I shrug but the red doesn't seem to care._

_“I'm great!” She enthuses exhilarantly. We conduct her to flex her arms and legs, finding everything to be in correct working order. “Let's do it again!” She shrieks._

_“Uhh, I don't think so.” Jo answers, arms crossed and face set. “I think we'd better drive you to the hospital first.”_

_See, A. a hospital visit._

_“I'm_ fine _. That was_ so exciting _!”_

 _“You sure? 'Cause I dunno if you know but you've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's_ gushing _blood," Jo informs her._

_Immediately, Charlie claps her hand over her head._

_When she pulls it away sure enough it's wet and sticky with something red. I glance at Benny but his face is stoic as hell._

_Thank the GODS._

_For some reason: a reason I'M NOT PROUD OF BECAUSE I TRUST MY FRIEND GODSBEDAMNED. I've worried every now and then – only for a sec every time – that one of us spilling blood would result in a situation somewhat like this:_

* * *

 

_A single drop of blood would ooze from a tiny cut._

_It would all happen very quickly then._

_“No!” Someone would roar._

_I would throw myself at the wounded – I don't know why, probably because it's been ingrained in me to protect protect_ protect _– flinging them back out of the line of danger._

_Maybe they would land in something._

_Maybe they would hurt themselves worse._

_Maybe I would make the situation worse._

_Benny would slam into me, and the sound would be like the crash of boulders in a rock slide, I'm sure._

_There would be a noise, a grisly snarling that would originate from deep in Benny's chest. Benny would try to shove past me, snapping his teeth just inches from my face. But my blood isn't already aired, isn't what he smells so potently._

_Isn't what's made his fangs drop and his eyes feral._

_Someone would grab Benny from behind in the next second – I always picture it as Cas, even though he's been gone for months, I would picture him_ poof! _ing in to protect me even if I can protect myself – locking him into his seraphic alpha grip, but Benny would struggle on, his wild, empty eyes focused only on the wounded._

 

* * *

 

_And I feel awful every time I picture it because I know Benny wouldn't. I know I should trust him._

_But this is the first chance I've been able to see his reaction to a little blood._

_As far as I remember, that is._

_BUT RIGHT BACK TO THE PRESENT AND BACK TO REALITY._

_Charlie's talking. “Oh, trust me, loser. I'm an easy bleeder. It's not nearly as dire as it looks.” She's saying._

_We're all chuckling as we help her to her feet._

_She did pretty good after that._

_Not to say she didn't crash out._

_A LOT._

_And not to say that my prediction wasn't DEAD ON._

* * *

 

“And that's how Charlie's first time riding a motorcycle was like.”

“So much has happened since we've been gone.”

“Not much bad, right?”

“Only when dear old _Grandpa_ comes to check up on us.”

“Grandpa?”

“Oh, did we not mention?”

Both our angels give one definitive “No” headshake.

“Our grandfather is head of The Men of Letters' army of Hunters.”

Silence. So much silence.

And more silence.

Then silence.

Then. “What a joy.”

“Oh yeah, he's a ball full of sunshine.” Sammy spits.

“Even to his grandsons?”

“He doesn't claim us. He doesn't even claim our mother as his daughter.”

“Assmonkey.” Gabriel snorts from the front. He's laid over Sammy's chest again, sighing in contentment while at the same time obviously angered by the mention of our grandfather.

We're silent again.

Just soaking in all each others' presences.

It goes on like that for a while before Sam's voice rings out clear and cut. “So when're we heading North?”

* * *

 

Apparently by the day's end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the scene where Jacob helped Bella learn to ride a motorcycle and she hallucinated Edward? Yeah.
> 
> BTW I had to just wing the year and months and stuff so this takes place in 2016??? XD


	4. A New Day A New Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY DOES IT TAKE ME SO LONG TO WRITE JODY AND MARY CHAPTERS?!   
> I know this is short, but I couldn't bring myself to stretch it out.  
> That said, the next chapter will be longer. Promise. :)

“Care to go more indepth on how the Men of Letters' _visits_ have gone?”

“ _We_ haven't seen or heard from the Hunters since the night you all left. The night Samuel, our Grandfather came to the house. He left soon after. As far as we know it's been radio-silence since then.”

“And if it hasn't, if contact's been active, then we haven't been privvy to it.”

“EXCEPT that we've seen the creep lurking in the shadows every now and then.”

“True. No communication, but we're pretty sure Samuel's been following us.”

“That said, he obviously doesn't know his way around tha area cause a good turn and he's out of sight and out of mind.”

I chuckle, remembering the first time we’d managed to give the old male the slip.

We’d doubled back to get a peak and that was the first and only time we saw Samuel looking confused. He honest to the gods looked like he didn’t know what to do then.

“Well we’re glad they aren’t harassing you.”

“Hey, now that I think about it, aren’t your parents in danger?” I blurt, a strangling fear gripping me. “If they tracked your power here than they went to your house which has your names connected to it which traces back to your parents and sister, right?! aRE THEY IN DANGER?” My voice is getting dangerously high.

“Don’t worry, Dean-o. They’re safe. They aren’t alphas - well, little Claire might be but we won’t know till they’re older. I have a bet with Michael that she _will_ be. They moved and are in hiding as well so they can’t be used against us as hostages.” Gabriel replies.

Cas’ arm around me tightens.

“We’ve been worried they would use the two of you against us as well.”

I squeeze him back.

“We’ve been safe.” I reply.

Sam gives me _a look_ like he has since I turned **16** and stopped being the good little unemotional soldier daddy trained me to be. Sometimes he forgets. I don’t think he’ll ever stop giving me that look, truth be told. I’m alright with that. I’m also alright with not being a soldier. Although with how things are looking for the Alphas I may end up as one anyway.

Just in a different war than the one dad trained me for.

“So, to keep us from being used as pawns against you,” I speak up, pulling myself out of my detrimental train of thought. “You’re gonna take us into hiding with you?”

“Exactamundo!” Gabriel. Always Gabriel.

“We’re gonna have to tell our moms.”

“Not everything.” Cas says, voice determined.

“Well _of course_ not everything.” I reply with a roll of my eyes.

“What about school?” Sammy. Always Sammy.

“I have no doubt that if you, BOTH of you, took the exam for your GED you’d pass with flying colors.” Cas says.

_Huh_.

It’s silent. It’s so silent because _holy hell_ why hadn’t we thought of that?

“ _Caaaaa~ssiiiie~_. I thought _I_ was the genius.” Gabe pouts.

 

* * *

When we finally start the drive home Sammy and I are both, rightfully, annoyed when our feathery-butt boyfriends choose to sit together in Baby’s backseat instead of Cas taking shotgun with Gabe and Sammy mackin’ in the backin’.

That annoyance turned to anger and betrayal when at the _Welcome To Forks_ sign, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the back seat was empty.

I slammed on the brakes only to hear a tumble and pain-filled “Ow!” resounds from the empty air.

Brows furrowed, Sammy and I hook ourselves over the back of Baby's bench seat and launch over it for inspection.

Or we would've.

Except that when we swing over the bench our foreheads _whack!_ the empty air.

The oxygen yells "Son of our Father!" at the impact and we retreat clutching our skulls.

"The hell?" I groan.

"Indeed." Definitely Cas' voice.

" _The hell_? Why're you invisible!?" I yell, feeling like torturous interrogation would be apt right now in retaliation of my injury.

"In case the town's being watched."

"And you couldn't have warned me _before_ you went _poof!_?" I grouse, followed by a *grumble grumble*. "Looking back and seeing ya'll _GONE_ isn't good for my heart you jerk-offs."

"Oh, Cassie's been doing quite a bit of _that_ since we left." 

_Why do I always get on the topic of masturbation with Gabriel?_

"Oh, I'm sure you've been having _oodles_ of fun with the twins yourself."

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand cue awkward silence.

"I meant your hands…but…"

Sammy coughs. "I think it would be better to discuss the openness of our relationship at a later date." Lil bro mumbles, clearly uncomfy.

So of course I can't help but _help_.

"Oh come on _Sammeh_ I know for a fact you wouldn't mind sharin' a bed with all three of them don't even lie." I smirk.

Till I get a boney elbow to my gut.

"Instead of suspiciously talking to air in our _empty_ backseat, I think we should be getting home, _don't you_?"

“Yeah, Sammy, whatever you say.” I respond, trying to avoid getting another _whack!_

That . . . and . . . talking to what looks like thin air and having what looks like thin air talk back is a little maddening.

I wonder how many . . . what's the politically correct term for schizophrenics and the like? I bet most of them just had brush-ins with the supernatural and never got it explained so they're thought to being going mad.

Some of those people who “talk to God” or “see angels and demons” probably actually do.

That actually pisses me off a bit. (More than a bit but I'll ask why the Supernatural species need to stay hidden at a different time.)

Huh. _I wonder if any Natural species that humans know about are actually Supernatural._

I've got too many questions pilin' up.

All I say is: “Alright, home we go.” As I turn right-round in my seat.

Baby roars to life and I smile at her, givin' her dash a pat.

Sam sighs in relief but oh ho ho this conversations gonna continue later on, guarantee it.

“Giddy-up, Dean-o.”

“Promise me you don't say that during cowboy.”

“DEAN!” Sammy shouts at me, cheeks just a little redder, while Cas chuckles throatily behind me. Gabriel's cackling, trying really hard to hold it in. “Just. Drive.” Lil bro bites out.

I give a salute before directing Baby toward home.

 

* * *

I swear Mom's glare could set ice on fire.

_Of course_ moms get home at the same time for once.

Right when Sammy and I are packing up; with Castiel and Gabriel on our respective beds. Yelling from one room to the other travel and hiding logistics.

When we hear the front door _click!_ every molecule in our bodies silence.

Except Gabriel's stomach.

_Of course._

“Sweeties?” Momma's voice calls out and I gulp audibly.

Cas is sitting on the bed with wide, terrified eyes flickering from the doorway to me and back, anticipating – read: _dreading_ – my mothers coming up the stairs.

Jody's the first one to reach the landing and she freezes. 

Both our doors are open and though I can't see into Sam's from where I'm standing, I can only imagine Gabriel's got the same expression as Cas. I.E. absolutely fucking _petrified_.

Cas is gripping his trenchcoat in lily-fucking-white knuckles.

He's gulping down his nerves.

And I'm loving every second.

Momma Mary's second up the stairs and she freezes; eyes wide.

Then she blinks. Once. Twice.

Turns around.

Goes back downstairs – everything's silent save her footsteps (FYI Jody's still just standing at the top of the landing, hands at her sides and now a potent glare on her face with lips pursed).

When Momma reappears next to her wife she stands still for a second before sighing. A full-body sigh that encompasses every limb and bone and strand of hair, she slouches and goes “huh?” with her hands and rolls her eyes and breathes out an annoyed, tired, can't-deal-with-this-SHIT-right-now “Seriously?” as her head rolls back and she throws her hands up like the stereotypical parent who can't deal with her children's bull anymore.

Jody nods; crossing her arms and giving a sigh, she glances from one room to the other AGAIN.

And then I hear Gabriel: “Hello Dean and Sam's Moms. How are you this fine foggy day?” 

Jody smiles before oh-so-sweetly saying: “Get outta my house.” What a warm welcoming party, my moms certainly know how to bring on the hugs.

I sigh as I continue packing clothes.

Aaaaaaaaand this is the moment when the parentals notice what I (and Sam, probably) are doing?

“And where do you th _ink you two are going_?” Mom's voice gets way too high-squeaked by the end of her more-than-slightly fearful question.

“We're not quite sure. You'd have to ask our angels.” Sam says loud enough for me to hear through the walls and around the bends.

“Oh, uh uh no way are you leaving this town I – ” “ _We_ ,” “Won't allow it!”

“Yes you will.” I say. No inflection. No judgement. I just say it blasé 'cause I know it's the truth.

THEY know it's the truth.

And their silence speaks volumes to it.

I don't look at them again, just continue packing. Go about my room and grab up my essentials and things that I use on a daily basis. I don't need to look at them to imagine their silent-conversation-glances and body language and hidden signals as they debate in their own language that no one but them has any chance of decoding 'cause no one else is a part of their relationship as wholey as they are nor could any one else ever hope to be.

Sammy and I are like that too.

As are Cas and I, in our own way.

Less in depth due to the newness and lack of contact our relationship has had, but I tend to change that very soon.

That's not to say that I can't read the expression on my Seraph's face loud and clear.

“Where are they taking you?” _Ding-ding-ding we have a winnah!_

Jody and Mom are hard now, trained and in command. All soldiery now.

It's unnerving, no lie.

“Sorry, can't divulge that.” Gabriel chippers. “Witness-Protectiony type deal, you understand?” I can _hear_ his tooth-rotting smile.

Cue tension filled silence.

“Well then, what _can_ you divulge?”

From there Gabriel tells them everything they'd told us.

* * *

We're out of the house by midnight.

I HAD TO LEAVE BABY.

When Gabriel told me I almost didn't go.

I yelled and shouted and nearly punched Gabe in the godsbedamned face AND HE ALMOST LET ME TOO 'CAUSE HE STILL FEELS LIKE HE OWES ME FOR THE WHOLE WHACKING ME WITH HIS WINGS AND SENDING ME TO THE HOSPITAL AND THAT I _WAS INJURED FOR WEEKS_ oh and also because of Kali. Yeah he feels like I should punch him till I've wasted my energy then rest and go at him again and rinse and repeat till I am satisfied which let me tell you when he told me I had to leave Baby I ALMOST TOOK HIM UP ON THE STRESS-RELIEVING OFFER.

Unfortunately, I would never do that to Gabriel – or anyone I love.

Instead Cas gave me a different kind of stress release. ;)

So at midnight, we're in the hallway outside our bedrooms. Mom and Jody with us, hugging us goodbyes, with Cas and Gabriel holding half our packs and NO TEARS on our cheeks.

I mean, come on, we're gonna see them soon enough.

Gabriel says we already have burner, no trace phones waiting for us that we'll be able to make calls from. (Sam was skeptical on the whole _no trace_ thing but Gabriel kindly hinted at witchy-ways so he shut up)

Cas wraps an arm around my waist, Sammy drapes his arms over Gabriel's shoulders, their wings lift, spread, our moms take two steps back.

Then: _blink!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if anything's offensive or insensitive. (I should start ending every chapter with that.)


	5. The Object to Which The Actions of The Sea are Directed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a month. This was originally gonna be 2 chapters but NOPE. And fair warning, no one read this over. My bestie usually does but SCHOOL. I've been working a lot myself so and it's not a good time. So much no.
> 
> To any of you that have asked me about Soft Spoken, I have two days off from work soon and if I don't sleep those days away I'm gonna try and go to the coffee shop and gets some writing done.
> 
> Tell me if there are any glaring errors and/or discontinuities or what have you.

Do you know what the Northernmost, Southernmost, Westernmost, and Easternmost states are?

Cas does. 

He ask me that question – riddle? – when we land. It's pitch black, and I can't see a damn thing. Though actually, I suspect that's because Cas' wings are still around me and not because of how dark the night is.

The question is graveled out and I'm taken off guard. But like a good partner I try my best to answer: “Uhhh;” _Why the hell would I know this?_ “Northernmost . . . Maine? Southernmost . . . Florida? No . . . Hawai'i? Westernmost . . . Alaska? Easternmost . . . okay I fucked up somewhere.”

Cas chuckles; then his wings – I KNEW IT! – lift and _WOAH!_

It's still night but _damn_. 

I've never seen so much _white_.

Snow _as far as the eye can see_.

“Northernmost: Alaska. Southernmost: Hawai'i. Westernmost: Alaska. Easternmost: _Alaska_. One of those states, you're standing in now. Care to venture a guess?”

“Gee iono; Wyoming?”

“I sometimes forget that's even a real place.” Gabriel barks. Cas chuckles before cupping my elbow.

“Come on, let's get you both inside. You are NOT dressed for this weather.”

Huh, funny, 'cause I don't feel cold.

And I don't mean that in a sexual “ _ooooh baby how could I ever be cold when you make me so hot_ ” kind of way. I'm just literally not cold.

“You're grace is keeping us from freezing, isn't it?” I ask.

Cas nods.

So I guess the sexual way is _kinda_ true. Just . . . not _sexually_.

I don't care if that doesn't make sense to you 'cause it makes sense to me.

And I can't help but peer out into the pure _white_ wilderness with nothing short of awe. And it _is_ wilderness. The only building as far as I can see is a sizable cabin, big enough to house maybe 2 families – so of course when I say cabin you're supposed to envision a like mansion-like cabin 'cause the angelic Novaks would do no less because _hello_ you need a lot of space with a family this size equipped with _WINGS_ that make each member take up at least 3-4 times as much space as their _body's_ size. So the monstrous cabin is the only thing in sight. But the funny thing about the cabin is that when you first glance at it, you think it's a part of the landscape. It's set _IN_ to the snow, a white expanse of something _other than_ wood that's covered in at least 2 layers of snow.

So how do you know it's a cabin?

The windows.

There's a flicker of light coming from one or two and a dull hum of music spilling out.

Otherwise, it first appears as a snowcapped hill.

Especially in the dark night.

The only reason I notice it is 'cause that's where Cas is steering me and I was curious why _that_ direction. Gotta keep my wits about me, right? Now that we're on the run.

. . . . . . . . . from my mother's family . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . my own grandfather . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_when did this become my life?_

For some reason Cas and Gabriel flew us near but not _near_ the cabin so we're in sight but it still takes a good 10 minutes – and by now my eyes are fully adjusted – to reach it. When we're about 2 yards away Cas stops.

Turning to me, he makes a hand motion for me to continue.

Eyebrow raised and poised at him incredulously, I take two more steps forward before anything happens.

Somewhere during that second step I cross something, some invisible barrier that's obviously protecting the house.

It lets me in kindly but at the intrusion a burst of lights spread over the barrier like an Aurora of water trickling over a glass orb.

“ _Incredible_ ,” Sam breathes behind me.

And then the light show happens again and Sammy's standing beside me, watching the barrier's magic trick with wonder.

It doesn't happen again, but then the angels are beside us and a pluck of disappointment goes through me. Frowning, I glare at Cas. He's smirking at me. 

“The barrier doesn't react to Grace.”

I stick my tongue out at him while Sam sputters out a weak “Lame.”

With a smirk, I look to the camo-cabin and start walking.

Well, actually, I trudge. Snow is not the easiest to walk in lemme tell ya.

We reach the door in no less than ten minutes, opening the door to find that inside is lit by the embers of a dying fire and Michael and Lucifer . . .

Well, I honestly can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

They're wrapped around each other like coils, wings and limbs alike, on what appears to be a nest situated in the middle of the living room and dominates the space.

Searching for a clock, Cas holds up a light – which upon closer inspection I realize is a phone – and states, cold and calm and detached, “Appears we spent an hour in the snow,” Before turning the screen to me so I can peak at the time myself: 00:58.

“Welp, doesn't look like they're waking anytime soon.” Gabe says, not even trying for subtle as he drops his pants, nor trying for quiet as he throws his shoes and continues with; “So why don't we join them.” And dive-bombs into the elder Novaks' nest.

The twins scuffle and adjust but don't wake, just accept the littlest Novak into their pack.

“Might as well,” I mutter, stripping. Now that I'm noticing, the cabin is quite warm and it will be no hardship to sleep in my boxers as I enjoy.

Cas and Sam have no qualms with joining in.

Soon all six of us are cuddled in the nest, wings and human limbs everywhere and the embers crackling as they turn to ash.

Outside the Alaska night isn't silent. 

It howls in a sound more comforting than anything I think I've ever heard before.

* * *

So, _I_ – and this was A L L me I mean N O help from Sammy WHAT SO EVER 

 

 

He may have helped

 

 

just a tad

 

 

 

 

 

 

just 20%

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5 . . . . . . . . 6%

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. . . . . . 89 . . EIGHTY-NINE PERCENT GODSBEDAMNED!

 

BUT I DID 11% ON MY OWN!

I would've done more but I just got distracted by . . . stuff.

 

A N Y W A Y _back to what I was saying –_ sooooooo I did some research on Alaska.

 

WHAT I'VE LEARNED ABOUT ALASKA:1

 

ALASKA HAS AREAS THAT GET:

  * _24 hours of daylight_

  * _24 hours of night_

  * _3 million lakes_

  * _586,400 Square Miles_

 

This next one tho now THIS surprised me.

 



  * _We are 2 times the size of Texas_

 

Like, _seriously_ , twice the size of TEXAS?

 

  * _We have 29 volcanoes_

 

That's not surprising at all if you remember that Alaska is part of the Ring of Fire.

 

  * _33,000 miles of coastline!_

 

Also not surprising.

 

  * _1,400 miles North to South_

  * _2,700 miles East to West_

  * _Over 1/2 the world's Glaciers_

  * _55 miles east of Russia_

  * _We are the on_ _ly state to have coastlines on three different seas.  
Arctic Ocean, Pacific Ocean and Bering Sea. _



  * _State Sport: Dog Mushing_

    * _It once was the primary form of transportation in most of Alaska. Today dog sled racing is a popular winter sport. It was adopted as the state sport in 1972._

  * _State Gem: Jade_

    * _Alaska has a large deposit of jade, including an big mountain filled with dark green jade on the Seward Peninsula._

  * _State Mineral: Gold_

    * _The search for gold played a major role in shaping the history of Alaska, from the discovery of gold in Juneau to the great gold rush at Nome. Gold was named the state mineral in 1968._

  * _State Insect: Four spot skimmer dragonfly_




 

There are soooooooooooo many more facts that I will not take the time to relay.

 

* * *

Anyway, while _I –_ Sammy – was busy putting together that information _I_ – me; with the help of the lovely Mrs. and Mrs. Mills – was researching this:

 

MEN OF LETTERS:

  * Started in the Hellenistic Period as one of many Mystery Cults.

  * Motto: _Preceptors, Observers, Beholders, Chroniclers._

      * _We're preceptors, beholders, chroniclers of all that man does not understand. We share our findings with a few trusted hunters – the very elite. They do the rest._

  * Purpose: _Preceptors, Observers, Beholders,_ and _Chroniclers_ of mysteries not easily explainable or known to “men”.

  * The Symbol of the Order: The Aquarian Star

  * (Some) Notable Members: Frank L. Baum, Cuthbert Sinclair, Josie Sands, Henry Winchester, Samuel Campbell, etc.

 

NOTES ON MEN OF LETTERS MEMBERS:

 

      * Frank L. Baum:

          * Author of _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_

            * (According to an undercover contact within The Men of Letters Oz is a real place, a world separate from ours that can be accessed and passed into via special portals)

            * (I've never been so happy as I am now because this means that any “fictional” world could theoretically be true/real)

          * Only known relative; Dorothy Oz.

            * Living Status: Presumed Deceased.

          * Living Relatives: None

          * Living Status: Deceased

 

      * Cuthbert Sinclair:

          * Alias: Magnus

          * Master of Spells

          * Living Relatives: Unknown

          * Living Status: Alive

 

      * Josie Sands:

          * Initiate whom in the 1950s was possessed by the Knight of Hell, Abaddon.

          * Abaddon attempted to destroy the Men of Letters, and nearly succeeded until a coup in Hell forced her to change sides. She partnered with the Men of Letters and made deals. Gave them power. Told them supernatural secrets.

          * Now she and at least 10 other demons are members of The Order.

 

      * Samuel Campbell:

          * Current Head of The Men of Letters

          * NONE-Legacy

          * Former Hunter

          * Recruited by The Men of Letters in 1988 after death of his wife, Deanna Campbell, at the hands of a yellow-eyed demon.

          * Fell out of contact with one and only child, daughter;

            * Birth name: Mary Campbell

          * Relatives: Deanna Campbell † (wife), Mary Winchester (daughter), John Winchester (son-in-law), Sam Winchester (grandson), Dean Winchester (grandson), Gwen Campbell (unknown relation), Christian Campbell (nephew), Mark Campbell † (unknown relation), Johnny Campbell † (unknown relation)

          * Living Status: Alive

 

      * Henry Winchester:

          * Legacy

          * Initiated into the Men of Letters in 1958.

          * Relatives: Millie Winchester (wife), John Winchester (son), Mary Winchester (daughter-in-law), Sam Winchester (grandson), Dean Winchester (grandson), Adam Milligan (grandson), Kate Milligan (daughter-in-law)

          * Living Status: Deceased

 

  * Men of Letters Headquarters: Lebanon, Kansas.

  * Notes my mother took on her father's organization:

      * “It is thought that the _Library of Alexandria_ was either a Men of Letters archive or was destroyed by the Men of Letters for attaining a scroll of something beyond a mundane humans' comprehension. Reports vary, though it may be that each fire was due to a separate purpose. No matter the truth, it is clear that the Library had ties with the Order.”

      * “At some point between the late 17th century and their almost extinction, they used their political power to destroy the Grand Coven's power by whipping the church into a frenzy, causing many of the Grand Coven's best members to be burned at the stake or forced into hiding. The Men of Letters took the Coven's best spells and potions and hid them in their bases across the world.”

      * “In 1958 Abaddon, one of the Knights of Hell, possessing initiate Josie Sands' body, was sent by party or parties unknown to kill the members of the group who were gathered in Normal, Illinois. They were gathered for the initiation of Henry Winchester and Josie Sands. There were no survivors.”

  * Endangerment/Almost extinction: 1958

  * Changes after Almost Extinction:

      * Organization became more hunter-esque

      * Took to using their knowledge to their advantage more often

      * Militarization

      * Allied with the Frankenstein family at the behest of their demon cohorts

      * Focused more on the eradication of threats to themselves and their knowledge then on the acquisition of said knowledge.

      * Broke with the _Judah Initiative_




 

HUNTERS:

  * Hunters' Code: _Saving people, hunting things._

  * Purpose: “Hunters are just typical humans who, unlike others, believe in supernatural beings and, even more, they fight against them to protect normal people from harm. One of the most recurring reasons to go into the hunter lifestyle is a tragedy in their lives that involved the supernatural. However, there are other reasons to decide being a supernatural hunter, such as being raised as one.” – From Mary Mills' journal.

  * Tools of the Trade: Handguns, long guns, knives, salt, silver, iron, holy water, melee weapons/other, supernatural weaponry, magic, seals and sigils, hex bags and charms, etc.

  * Notable Hunters: Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Mary Winchester*, John Winchester, Gordon Walker, Rufus Turner, Pastor Jim Murphy, Richie, Annie Hawkins, etc.




 

I've learned a bit about demons and the world our angels are from because of this list, although every time I ask about “Knights of Hell” I am met with a heavy awkward silence and turnaways so I'll have to dig deeper into that subject later on.

But I've learned that some of the supernatural are on the side of the Men of Letters.

Supernatural that you _would think_ the Men of Letters would kill first, but N O O O O O O.

_Of course not._

Because of this, though, I learned that Dad's family is not innocent in all this, either. Although from what mom tells us, Dad doesn't actually know about his father's involvement or even about the Men of Letters at all. She says that Dad has suspicions about the supernatural – like that something  _not-_ human set the fire when Sammy and I were kids – but that he's never been able to confirm it. And that's only because she has very loyal friends in both the hunter community and the supernatural one.

Sam and I probably would've been sucked into this world with or without meeting the angels.

I even compiled a list of Enemies and Allies with the help of Bobby and my mom as well as Chuck and Becky.

I don't know a lot of the people on these lists but they're good to know for later on.

 

ALLIES:

  * Bobby Singer

  * Rufus Turner

  * Pastor Jim Murphy

  * _Judah Initiative_

  * Angels

  * Alphas




 

ENEMIES:

  * Gordon Walker

  * Dick Roman

  * Knights of Hell

  * The Men of Letters

  * Samuel Campbell

  * Samuel Campbell

  * SAMUEL CAMPBELL




 

When you're stuck in the snow – IN HIDING – you come up with shit to do.

 

* * *

DAY 1:

 

Michael starts in on The Rules of Being In Hiding when we all sit down to breakfast our first morning in Alaska – at least, Sammy and mine's first morning in Alaska. “We may be coming back down to earth but – ”

“BUT we still have to be in hiding. So, code names!” Gabriel shouts, cutting off his perfectly-coiffed-even-though-I-just-rolled-out-of-the-nest big brother. “Any suggestions?”

“Code names? You mean _secret identities_?” Sammy double-checks.

To which Gabriel nods so hard it looks like he's gonna dislocate his neck.

C O O O O O O O O ~ O O L .

 

* * *

DAY 2:

 

We finalize our Code Names and send them to Ash to make up Legal Documents to go with our new Secret Identities:

 

The Novaks:

Castiel is now Emmanuel Allen.

Lucifer is now Nick Pellegrino.

Michael is now Jake Cohen.

And last but not least:

Gabriel is now Junior Hveðrungr. (Just don't ask)

 

The Winchesters:

Dean (MOI!) is now John Smith – I know _I know_ VERY ORIGINAL.

Sam is now Henry Wesson.

 

* * *

DAY 6:

 

I learn that everyone but Sam and I had actually already had their code names picked out. Looks like it's part of a fail-safe plan incase the Sanctuary was discovered.

 

Ash's alias is Chad Roads.

Benny's is Ty Bennett Dwyer.

Jo's is Alona Beth Tal.

Charlie's is Celeste Middleton.

And Gadreel has just been anointed with a secret identity as well; Ezekiel Tahmoh.

* * *

DAY 7:

 

sleep

* * *

DAY 10:

 

S l e e p

* * *

DAY 13:

 

Map out every nook and cranny of Cas' wings.

Admire them in the blinding white of the snow and the waning sunlit of dusk.

See the sun passing through the petals of black ink, feel them wrap around me with purpose and bask in the fact that our angels don't have to hide them here.

Their Graces are still reigned in, but their wings are on display.

I've never believed in any god more deeply than I do when I look at them.

* * *

DAY 17:

 

Admire Ash and Charlie's forgery skills.

_Magnifique!_

They've made multiple forms of ID and for an assortment of states, even passports incase we decide to flee the country; tho they may not have thought over the whole we-would-fly-using-our-wings-and-would-not-get-them-stamped-at-the-airport-we-would-not-be-visiting but it's the thought that counts.

* * *

DAY 19:

 

Explore the snow. Snow. And more snow.

Fly incognito to the closest town.

Oh and explore more snow.

* * *

DAY 23:

 

Plot world domination with Gabriel while the others take a supply run.

* * *

DAY 26:

 

SLEEP

* * *

DAY 29:

 

Sammy and I study for our GED exams.

* * *

DAY 31:

 

THINGS THAT HAPPENED WITHIN A MONTH,  _A MONTH_ , THAT I COULD'VE GONE CENTURIES – LITERALLY MY WHOLE LIFE – NEVER SEEING: 

 

THINGS YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND NEVER WANNA CATCH YOUR BABY BRO DOING WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND'S BIG BRO WHO JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE YOUR BABY BRO'S BOYFRIEND:

 

  1. ALL OF YOUR BOYFRIEND'S BROTHERS PLUS YOUR OWN REENACTING “YOU'RE TOO BIG TO FIT IN HERE” FROM that one movie with Cameron Diaz and _THE SWEETEST THING_ that's what that movie's called. 2

  2. Reenacting the “Sexy Hand Gliding Down Steamy Window” scene from _Titanic_ full-on, explicitly NSFW, _**IN BABY**_

  3. ALSO FROM _THE SWEETEST THING_ a spot. on. reenactment of when Jane – PLAYED BY **SAM** – gets caught on her partner's dick piercing and they have to sing with ONLOOKERS – LUCIFER AND MICHAEL – HELPING!

      1. I don't know if I'd rather have watched a reenactment of Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake's dry-humping scene from _Bad Teacher_ but they are CLOSELY tied. 

  4. and lastly reenacting a scene from Who Framed Roger Rabbit where the shorter of the two is Roger Rabbit and he's jumping on the Detective's bed reading his love letter to his wife with yellow leather glove while wearing red leather lingerie disguised as overalls whose back is open to just above their ass crack AND WHOSE BACK BOTTOMS HAVE BEEN CUT-AWAY LIKE ASS-LESS CHAPS TO SHOW OFF A WHITE BUNNY TAIL ASS PLUG WHILE HUGE WHITE BUNNY EARS BOUNCE ON THEIR HEAD AND DONNING _A BOWTIE_ AND INSTEAD OF YOUR BABY BRO BEING THE DETECTIVE IN THIS SCENE **THEY'VE FANFICTIONED THIS SHIT SO THAT HE;S BEING BOUNCED ON THE BED** _ **AS JESSICA**_ **WHILE WEARING** _ **GLITTERY RED BOOTY-SHORTS ROCKY WOULD DIE FOR, UPPER ARM REACHING PURPLE GLOVES, RED STILETTOS**_ **THAT COULD K I L L** _ **, ALL!!!WHILE!!!DONNING!!!A!!!VOLUPTUOUS!!!ORANGE!!!WIG!!!RUBY!!!RED!!!LIPS!!!AND!!!PEARL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EARRINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3**_




 

WHY IS THIS A THING THAT I'VE HAD TO ENDURE?!!!!!!!!!!??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

There will never be enough brain bleach

 

E V E R

 

AND THAT'S ONLY _**FOUR**_ INSTANCES OF TRAUMATIZATION

* * *

DAY 37:

 

Emerald.

WHY DOES IT _HAVE TO BE_ EMERALD?

Am I _that_ cliché? (Don't answer that.)

I like Gabriel's suggestion of Tiger's Eye but NO they put it to a vote and I get EMERALD as my Gemsona.

Why I ever thought it was a good idea to make them watch  _Steven Universe_ I have no idea.

That said, I got to choose Castiel's Gem and we are all pretty happy with the results.

 

GEMSONAS:

 

LUCIFER:

GEM: Obsidian

WEAPON: Hammer

 

MICHAEL:

GEM: Onyx

WEAPON: Sword

 

GABRIEL:

GEM: Citrine

WEAPON: Stake

 

CASTIEL:

GEM:  Celestite

WEAPON: Scythe

 

SAM:

GEM: Ametrine

WEAPON: Gun

 

DEAN:

GEM: Emerald

WEAPON: Blade

 

Oh, wait, Sammy's looking something up.

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

 

Looks like there are a few changes to be made to the list.

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Make that a  _complete_ overhaul.

 

_Modified List of_ GEMSONAS:

 

LUCIFER:

GEM: Kunzite

WEAPON: Hammer

 

MICHAEL:

GEM: Obsidian

WEAPON: Sword

 

GABRIEL:

GEM: Citrine

WEAPON: Horn

 

CASTIEL:

GEM:  Apatite

WEAPON: Scythe

 

SAM:

GEM: Sardius

WEAPON: Gun

 

DEAN:

GEM: Chrysolite

WEAPON: Blade

 

Thank the gods I wasn't actually stuck with Emerald.

Everyone's changed except Gabriel's . . . huh.

* * *

DAY 42:

 

Chuck's here.

He and Becky arrived last night.

Chuck's . . . interesting.

Now that I'm around him I can tell he's got Future Vision.

Chuck literally writes littles notes of visions he sees on sticky paper and leaves them around the house.

I'll wake up to one that says something ridiculous like “The Simpsons were right; Donald Trump to run for President.”

And others that are ominous.

The most terrifying is one about me.

All it says is:

 

_Dean's gone mad with anger, revenge. Something, somewhere inside, passed down and long dormant, some ancient thing has awakened inside and it's dark and bathed in blood. Cas has to wake him, or he'll drown, and the youngest will drown with him._

* * *

DAY 45:

 

We've talked to our mothers rarely. They assure us they've explained our absences away to all those who need explaining to.

They tell us they've spotted Grandpa Samuel around town.

They also tell us they've heard nothing through the Hunter Grapevine with regards to _The_ Alphas' whereabouts.

So apparently we're fine.

We're safe.

* * *

DAY 48:

 

We watch whatever I ask to watch.

Things that keep me sane.

Cas and I read whatever I ask to read.

Whatever keeps my mind occupied.

 

* * *

DAY 49:

 

Every time I hear our angels' true voices, as I watch them twist and turn in the Alaskan, snow swept winds, their wings on full display and dancing _dancing_ in the sunlight, I wonder about where they've been the last few months, while they were out of reach. I wonder about the beauty of “Heaven” or wherever in the sky it is where they were hiding.

I wonder how many other angels were there with them.

If they knew them or if they were strangers and if they made friends in their time there.

And I think of _Juliet_.

 

_The air in the Siena Cathedral was full of gold and shadows. Around me on all sides, massive black-and-white pillars held up a vast heaven sprinkled with little stars, and the mosaic floor was a giant jigsaw puzzle of symbols and legends that I somehow know – as one knows the sounds of a foreign language – but did not understand._

_The place was different from the modern churches of my childhood as one religion from another, and yet I felt my heart responding to it with mystified recognition, as if I had been there before, looking for the same God, a long, long time ago. And it suddenly occurred to me that here, for the first time, I was standing in a building that resembled my dream castle of whispering ghosts. Perhaps, I thought, gaping up at the star-spangled dome in this silent forest of silver-birch columns, someone had brought me to this very cathedral when I was a baby, and I had somehow stored it in my memory without knowing what it was._

_The only other time I was in a church of this size was when Umberto had taken me to the Basilica of the National Shrine in Washington, playing hooky after a dentist appointment. I could not have been more than six or seven years old, but I vividly remembered him kneeling down next to me in the middle of the enormous floor and asking me, “Do you hear it?”_

_“Hear what?” I had asked, the little plastic bag with a new pink toothbrush clutched in my hand._

_He had cocked his head playfully. “The angels. If you are very quiet, you can hear them giggle.”_

_“What are they laughing at?” I had wanted to know. “Us?”_

_“They take flying lessons here. There is no wind, only the breath of God.”_

_“Is that what makes them fly? The breath of God?”_

_“There is a trick to flying. The angels told me.” He had smiled at my wide-eyed awe. “You need to forget everything you know as a human being. When you are human, you discover that there is great power in hating the earth. And it can almost make you fly. But it never will.”_

_I had frowned, not quite understanding him. “So, what's the trick?”_

_“Love the sky.”_

– 147-148, _Juliet_ by Anne Fortier

 

* * *

DAY 54:

 

Chuck and Becky leave.

They were only here for a short while. 

To lay low themselves until Chuck saw it safe for them to go somewhere else.

I don't know where that somewhere else is, but they leave us cellphones when they depart.

* * *

2 MONTHS:

 

Chuck's sticky notes still haunt me.

Some are falling, their sticky sides no longer as sticky as they were when he first pasted them on the walls. On the picture frames. On the appliances. On the furniture.

They're falling off and wafting down to land on the floor like feathers.

They blend in to the molted leaves the angels leave in their wakes.

* * *

DAY 68:

 

Overall it's very . . . boring.

 

Mundane.

 

Low key.

 

Until, it's very _not._ And I miss the boring. I miss the domestic and the happy and the calm and collected and content and the slowly working up to being completely naked with my angel in body and soul and I miss everything that the blank snow brings. 

I miss it like Jim, Jack, and José.

I miss it because when it's gone I feel like my bowels're gonna fall out of me, like I'm collapsing from the inside out.

I miss it because when the boring ends I want to rewind time or put a bullet to my brain and say hello to the boatman with three schillings as my fare.

* * *

My fucking phone keeps vibrating.

Interrupting movie night (let's pretend those are less common than they really are).

At first we think it's coming from the TV, all of us more than a little annoyed that the character won't answer it.

It's not till Gabe asks, “What's that light?” that we realize we're wrong.

The light's flaring from the kitchen island. Standing, turning on the light as he passes the switch and making all of us cringe at the sudden onset blindness, Lucifer grabs up the device.

“It's your's, Dean.”

“Is it my mom?” I ask as he escorts it over to me.

“No, neither. It's an UNKNOWN number.”

That's . . . more than a little disconcerting.

Especially given that the cell is untraceable. And not in my name.

And that only the people in this room and a few others have the #.

I stare at the screen for a split second before pressing ACCEPT and embracing my fate.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Dean.” They're the same words that Cas uses to address me, but whereas in his voice is a comfort and a turn-on, whoever's voice this is sends a cold dread through my gut. Slithering over my skin in the raspy, labored like consumption and too-long smoking voice that I've never heard before.

And really wish I never had to hear again.

“Who is this?”

“Now, now, _Deanie_ , I ask the questions.”

“Wha – ”

“You wouldn't want anything to happen to the littlest Winchester, being such a good big brother and all, now, _would you_?” On instinct, I glance to my right. Sammy sits on a love-seat with Gabriel, content and safe and right next to me.

_What?_

Furrowing my brow, I reply: “I'm looking at my little brother right now.”

“Oh no, not that one. Ya see, about an hour ago little Adam here became an orphan.” I've never understood athletes who can just simply sink into an ice bath. I cringed and admired Allison's, Stile's, and Scott's fortitudes in the face of them. But now it feels like I've never been in warm water ever. I feel like I've jumped straight into the Arctic, blood frosting over and heart laboring as my body acts on its own; shooting to its feet with a wolf-worthy-snarl escaping its mouth.

“DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” The laughter that comes through is sickening.

“Oh, don't worry. He's kind of fun to play with. A beautiful crier, this one is.”

“Let. Adam. Go.” I want to scream, to cry, to rant, but I need to talk calmly with this monster. Right? Yes, right.

“Only if you give me the boyking.” Okay, wait . . . _now_ I'm confused. Furious with a side of intrigue.

“The . . . _what_?”

“The other Winchester. Samuel? Sammy? _Sam_.”

“Sam? Boyking?”

“Oh, yes. The boyking of hell. Oh dear, you don't know, do you? Pity, always the last to know.”

“Listen here you. Piece. Of. Shit. I don't give a fuck what you're talking about but – ”

“The fire.”

“What?”

“The fire, when the little king was just a babe. That was my father. He was always one for fanfare.”

“Who are you?”

“Alastair.” A scream through the phone has me tensing, strung taught like a bow.

“What was that?” I whine, internally screaming.

“Just little Adam. We're having some fun.”

“What did you do to him!”

“Relax, it's just a little torture. He'll come to enjoy it.”

“ _GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM YOU SICK FUCK!_ ” I'm crying, tears are falling and there are arms wrapped around me, holding me as our friends look on. As peripherally I see Sam's face pale and hear him whimper and Gabriel hold him tight.

Sammy may have never met Adam, but he still cares.

Fuck . . . Alastair said Adam's an _orphan_.

_Dad_.

_One problem at a time, Dean. One. At. A. Time._

“Mmh, no. My king wants the middle Winchester, pronto.”

“I still don't understand.” I breathe, barely able to get the words out they're so thick with snot. Alastair sighs exasperatedly.

“Little Sammy isn't fully human. He's kind of like a . . . a cambion. An antichrist, if you will.” Alastair wheezes.

“Sam's the antichrist?” My words are broken and drowned.

“I'm the _WHAT_!” Sammy yells from across the room, buried in his angel's embrace. It sounds like it's muffled by a barrier and distantly, _somewhere_ , my mind registers that out of my plane of sight Gabriel's got his wings wrapped 'round them like a mother-hen.

“Ah, so he's there now.” Alastair fuckin' _praises_. “Tell me. Is he presenting as Alpha, Beta, or Omega?” I'm taken aback. My brother? _Presenting?_ Like the angels and other assorted superfolk do? Looking at him now, I can see the fullness, the ruggedly-alpha pieces falling into place.

“Alpha.” I respond with malice, knowing where this is going.

“They're always the funner toys. Although omegas are great to break, humans with omega tendencies are even better.” Another shout and I'm screaming, _demanding_ he tell me what he's doing to my youngest brother _right NOW_. “Just playing. If ever little Adam is turned, he'll be an omega. There's no doubt. Although after I'm done I doubt he'll ever trust another alpha near him like this again.” I can feel more tears, bitter and dehydrating, building in my eyes and my legs are swaying and the ground is getting closer _fast_ , then more arms and then wings are around me and cradling me and I'm _panicking_ and there's laughter, so much laughter. “I'll be calling you when I near Forks. I know you're still in that area.” 

“Wait.” Cas pleads. Cas has my phone. When did he take my phone?

“Mmh. A new player.”

“Who do you work for?”

“Abaddon.” And the line goes dead.

There's a churning in my gut. My lungs won't intake. I can't breathe. I feel like a fish out of water (how cliché). I feel like I should have when I found out the supernatural were real. I feel like my world is falling apart.

And _shattering_.

This can't be happening.

It _can't_.

Kate.

Dad.

_Adam_.

_no_.

no.

n o.

n. o.

No.

N o.

N. O.

NO.

N O.

N. O.

“ _NO!_ ”

I _shriek_.

It's hard to realize when you're the epicenter, but your subconscious is always alert to your surroundings. Even in moments like this. The TV to my left flicks off, then on again, this time showing only static. Lucifer wrestles blindly with the remote, fearful of something I don't know but he shuts it off; only to have the radio to his right turn on to white noise.

Gabe looks so scared.

_Why does he look scared?_

I'm only screaming.

I'm only breaking down and the world around us is breaking down with me.

I hear Chuck's voice in my head, telling me to hold it in and to keep it in and not let it free but he's not here and he's never said these words to me so _why am I hearing them now?_ And why can't my voice go higher and _higher_ and HIGHER but then it does. A high-pitched single tone begins, radiating from my very vocal chords, an impossible note, and I clutch my own ears in pain against the sound. Against _my own_ sound.

But I don't stop.

Lucifer drops the remote and crouches to the floor, groaning in agony. Michael's there in an instant, hands everywhere, trying to soothe while at the same time wincing at his own pain.

One in the same.

But the sounds just keeps building and releasing the anger and pain and fear inside my chest and then it's erupting in a shattering, _splintering_ sound.

Oh, wait.

That.

_That_ 's not my voice.

It's the glass.

The windows and television and pints.

The windows above and around our heads shatter as the sound continues, and they drop to the floor. They drop like a bomb exploded. And it feels like it. It feels like a bullet's gone through my throat, escaped in a ring of fire. Before any of them can leap to their feet to try their escape, more glass on the ceiling and walls shatters.

Then, every inch and molecule of glass glitters like pixie dust.

Crushed and shivered.

And then I'm done.

I close my mouth and I breathe.

Eyes wide and chest tight.

Painful and salty. Tears still running down my cheeks, soaking my lips and peach fuzz and reddening my eyes and nose. Snot runny and embarrassing.

I look around cautiously. Like I don't understand.

Because I _don't_.

And everyone's staring wide-eyed and fearful at me. And all I can do is ask: “Did I do that?” In the small, broken voice of a child whose lost their guardian.

Cas wraps me up in his arms, wings folding around us like a watery veil. Holding me close and refusing to give me answer.

Keeping me protected.

I miss _safe_.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

1http://www.alaskasbest.com/facts.htm

2https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69mermWNac8

3https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjaxPd8m6dY

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY
> 
> The Men of Letters and Hunter facts are gathered from numerous Supernatural websites/fansites.
> 
> The next chapter may take a while too. It's THAT time of year.


	6. The Gray Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO this part of the series is taking longer to write because it is NOT happy - so far at least - but also because my bestie whom always reads my writing has school and i have work. I'm also getting over a major depressive time which seems to be getting better with the start of my birth control (which helps with hormones) so HOPEFULLY ill be happier and writing more :)
> 
> ALSO someone pointed out a few errors (Sam and Dean's ages in one section, for instance) or things wrong with chapters in Humble and they have been changed accordingly :)

I don't know when it happened, and I don't know _how_ , but when I've finally come 'round from what can only be described as “a trance” – one where I burrowed into Cas' arms and bathed in his warmth and his scent and curled tight tight _tight_ against him to block out the rest of the world. The rest of the _fucked_ _up_ world that's falling apart all around me – my mom is there. 

She's pulling me away and cooing with tears in her eyes and asking questions she's ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT DAD.

_Dad._

The tears are a waterfall.

They're a _torrent_.

And I think I'm screaming.

I'm scared that the lights will implode, that the windows will shatter, that my voice will deafen. My blood is rushing in my veins, thundering in my ears, my fingers tightening taut in my mother's shirt.

Her scent should be calming.

But it's churning my gut. 

It's reminding me of dad.

My parents' scents together were ingrained in me till I wa s four years old.

But DAD.

Where's _dad_.

_He can't be dead. He can't be. I don't believe it!_

“SHIT!” I _shriek_ , clutching my ears and folding in half.

In response, there are so many voices. So many voices yelling my name and so many hands pulling me this way and that and _apart_. I feel like I'm _dissolving_.

Till a sting on my cheek has me reeling.

It has the world halting and my head snapping to the side.

And all is still.

When I turn to see who delivered the slap I find Sammy sitting in front of me with wide, unseeing and terrified eyes, body trembling and throat working.

And we just stare at each other.

Mom's there, I can see her, feel her, in our peripherals, but we don't pay her mind.

We're just exchanging thoughts with our eyes.

And all those thoughts are screaming, insulting, disbelieving, calling dad and idiot and that when we go check on him he's just gonna be passed out drunk and Adam's gonna be asleep in bed while Kate's off at church-group and they'll all be annoyed at us for dropping in unannounced (except for Adam who'll be so excited to see me and meet Sammy) and everything will be normal we'll be the same dysfunctional family as always and that phone call never happened.

IT NEVER HAPPENED.

But _fuck_ Mom's crying.

There's even snot running down her lovely face.

The cabin is silent. Or, at least, my ears aren't functioning.

Only four words could penetrate our family circle: “We need to go.”

 

* * *

I vomit. 

Thick and vile and watery and a mess. It drips through my hands where I try to cup my mouth and halt its escape, the chunks flood my taste-buds and urge a second, then a third, and a fourth round of chuck to flow up. 

These aftershocks spew over my chin, slicken my neck and stain my shirt.

Never in all the years dad took us hunting, all the years he taught us how to skin a buck and kill our dinner have I ever seen so much blood. 

_So much_ excrement and release and _guts_.

The iron in the air chokes my nostrils and breathing through my mouth is worse and neither is a relief. 

It just propels my stomach up my throat. 

 

* * *

Momma screams.

She was a Hunter. Who knows how much death she's bore witness. But this is different. And she wails over Kate's body like _she's_ the one who was disemboweled.

 

* * *

Sammy cries silently.

He stands still and he doesn't speak. He just watches. 

_Sees_. 

And cries.

 

* * *

Becky takes it upon herself to steer us out of the Murder House as Jody, Cas, Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer, and Chuck search every nook and cranny of the house for any signs of the perpetrators. 

They don't find any.

They also don't find Adam.

 

* * *

For the rest of my life I'll never describe what I saw in that house.

 

* * *

It's more than a week before I can open my mouth without screaming.

* * *

There are no signs of Adam.

For two weeks, there are NO SIGNS OF ADAM.

And I'm going insane.

I've broken six individual things, large and sturdy. Every time I go on a rampage Cas engulfs me in his wings and holds me tight.

Two weeks. TWO WEEKS.

And then a true blue fucking heavenly angel lands at door.

Or rather, calls our phone.

 

* * *

_ Ring. Ring. Ring.  _

That's not actually Cas's ringtone, but I honestly don't recognize the classical song.

“Cas!” Gabriel calls out.

Cas unwinds his wings, revealing me to the outside world while Gabriel hands him his phone.

With a flick of the wrist Cas answers. “Hello?”

“Hey, Clarence. I hear you're looking for someone.”

Cas' eyes are wide. Shocked at the voice and at the words. “Meg?”

“Yeah, Clarence. And I know where your unicorn is.”

 

* * *

“Meg contacted you?” Michael.

“And she knows where Adam is?” Mary.

“Yes and she believes so.” Cas.

“Whose Meg?” Sam.

“One of Cas' exes.” Me.

“What did she say?” Gabriel.

“She said he's been institutionalized.” Cas.

“WHAT?!” Becky.

“She said she knows the demons who did this and that she heard through the bloodvine that Adam was put in a mental ward fo r  religious psychosis .” Cas.

“He was probably yelling about demons killing his parents.” Jody.

“Fuck. Where do we find him?”

“Glenwood Springs Psychiatric Hospital (GSPH). Meg's been transferred there to oversee him. Apparently she knows these demons _intimately_ and they trust her.” Cas.

“If that's true then why should _we_ trust her?” Sam.

“Because we _know_ Meg. Between her family and our's, she'll choose ours. E v e r y. T i m e.” Gabriel.

I smirk, but like everyone elses' grins, it's more than a little forced. “We need to head out. Immediately.”

 

* * *

“ What happened between Meg and you?” I ask as we set up in Ketchum, Oklahoma – where the hospital is located – anything to get my mind off of . . . just OFF.

“ We lost contact after I left hospital?” Woah, wait, HOLD UP.

“ What‽”

Cas freezes, form tensing. “ Oh.”

“ No, not  _ OH _ . The  _ what _ ?”

“ Hospital.”

“ Why were  you _ in _ _ hospital _ ?”

Cas sighs, tired and memorial. “ It was after Kali called Social Services and we were taken from our parents and the Twins went to Juvie . . .”

“ And?”

“ I had a nervous breakdown.”

“ Wait what type of hospital was it?” I was picturing him in like a full body cast but . . .

“Northern Indiana State Hospital. Psychiatric ward.” The same type Adam's in now.

“ For how long?”

“ A few months? Four?”

I can only splutter, feel my cheeks redden and my breathing sharpen as I take in all that he's saying.

He looks shocked at my reaction. But really all I can think is _ are you okay? Did they treat you well? Who admitted you? Did you have contact with your family? Was it traumatic? DO YOU KNOW IF ADAM WILL BE OKAY?  _

“ Are you  angry ?” Cas monotones with a frown. “Why are you angry?” 

“ Because, Cas! How bad was your breakdown that you, a veritable  _ CHILD _ , were hospitalized for  _ four _ fucking _ months _ !”

“ Uh, bad? Very bad.”

“ _ How  _ bad ?!”

“ Well, it wasn't  _ just _ a breakdown.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ Well, angels, we, uh . . . we have a mental link.”

“I  _KNEW_ IT! ” I screech! Cas smirks at me, readying for my barrage of . . . of . . . ah hell. “I KNEW YOU COULD ALL COMMUNICATE! THERE WAS  _ NO _ OTHER EXPLANATION! AND –  _ wait _ what does that have to do with your breakdown?”

My angel sighs, face changing to that  _ grief-stricken-far-off-place expression _ I wish he never had to wear. “ You know how Luci calls Juvie The Cage and refers to his time there as being in Hell?”

“ Yeah.”

“ He's not kidding. I could feel it.”

“ You could  _ feel _ it?”

“ Yes. His voice was in my mind and I was affected . . . negatively. He didn't know, of course. But having him in my mind was torture . . . they hurt him, in Juvie, you know? He got hurt because word got round he was in a 'gay' relationship with his brother.” Air-quotes and all. “So, they hurt him. And I could hear his screams and his anger. Michael healed him once they were out, but . . . the damage is done. In all of us. Never truly healed.”

“ How did you heal?”

“ Meg gave me an encyclopedia on biology subdisciplines and I found something to cling to in the zoology section.”

“ Oh?”

“ Uh, yeah,” * cough * * mutters something too low to hear *

“ What? Cas, speak up, babe.”

“ Melittology:  _ Apiology _ .”

“ What is  _ that _ ?”

“ The study of bees?”

“ Bees? As in the insects?”

“ What other Bees would I be talking about?”

“ The letter B? I don't know.” Cas smiles incredulously at me and I only grace him with a small huff of indignation. “Don't give me that look. 'Sides. That's entomology, not zoology, ain't it.”

“Entomology is a branch of zoology.” He answers quickly. Now that smile broadens. “Look at you. My caretaker, all of that thorny love. Beautiful.”

“ Shut up. Bet you say that to all of your nurses.”

“ Actually with Meg it was thorny  _ pain _ .”

“ How sweet of you.”

“ I try.”

“ How did you settle on bees?”

“ Well I went through phases o f dendrology, hippology, organology, and carcinology.”

“ You be my honeysuckle, I'll be your honey bee.”

“ I thought you didn't like Country.”

“ _ Shhhh _ ,”

“ As you wish.”

Have you ever rolled your eyes so sassily that it hurts? 'cause I just did. Though the cocky smile Cas' throwing me is totally worth the ice-cream-headache like pain.

After a few moments I speak up.

“ Do you still hear and see Lucifer?”

“ Only when he wants me to. And vice versa. But back then . . .” Cas is silent, searching for words to describe what it was like to have Lucifer constantly there in his mind. “I didn't know what was real. 'Cause Luci, he wasn't just speaking to me on the frequency of angels – ”

“ So, wait, they locked you up with a case of 'the crazies' when really you were just . . . tuning in to angel radio?”

“ It presented at Schizophrenia when combined with the hallucinations of Lucifer actually being there beside me.”

“ Do you ever have them now?”

“ No, 'cause they weren't hallucinations. Lucifer was jumping out of his own body and into my consciousness. Sharing my body with himself. I was the closest one to him distance wise and so I had the strongest chance of being his escape. He didn't mean to it just . . . He needed to escape The Cage. For his own sanity.”

“ Does he ever do that now?”

“ Accidentally, sometimes, yeah. But not just to me. All of us. I know. It all seems so silly, doesn't it? But sometimes, sometimes Lucifer's not here, sometimes he's back in Hell. But it's not real. It's just his brain leaking memories from The Cage 'cause of his wall breaking down. That's all.”

“ Wall?”

“ Just a wall he built in his mind.”

“ Was Juvie really so horrible?”

“ Imagine: High school meets prison (where, btw if you're incestuous and not heteronormative you're much more likely to be the one getting raped than to be the  rapier ) meets torture chamber. He doesn't know that I know but there were other non-humans in Hell with him. If you haven't realized yet, non-humans can identify each other. And specific species don't do well together in the grand-scheme of things. There was one,  Christian , who tortured Lucifer like he was a pig for slaughter.  Christian got out before Luci did, and I think Michael may have killed the demon.”

“ That's very good, your little theory.” I don't think I've ever whipped my head 'round that fast before in my life. And yeah Cas should not be sitting up so fast but shit Mikey's in the doorway watching us with a c ool detachment. “It's not wrong, either.” He finished before floating away just as silently as he'd arrived.

“ Is there no privacy in this family?” I murmur, not really hoping for anyone to hear.

“ We can communicate telepathically, what do you think?”

“ Oh, right, silly me.”

“ Michael knows everything. Everyone does.”

“ How old were you?”

“ How old was I when?”

“ When you were in hospital.”

“ Mmmh. I spent my thirteenth birthday there.”

“Mind telling me about it?” He shrugs.

 

“ _I'd had a breakdown. Bad luck on my part, there was a glass table beside me, which I fell on and shattered._

_I was admitted into the hospital and treated for a broken rib and lacerations.”_

  
I cringe. “Oh. Kay. That doesn't sound _too_ bad, considering all that I know you can take. And?”

  
_“I was locked on the psychiatric floor. I mean, I'd had some trouble before, and when they saw my file along with my brothers' . . . they didn't hesitate._

_They gave me drugs to calm me down._

_I heard the doctor outside at some point, he was talking to someone, I think it was one of my parents or Becky or Chuck, maybe my social worker, I never asked any of them. But I remember the conversation._

_'Are you aware that Castiel is experiencing a full-blown psychotic episode?”_

_'Psychotic? Come on. I mean, he's . . . It's not like he's going all Norman Bates, right?'_

_'No, I'm sure he isn't. We need to determine whether his state was brought on by the insomnia or whether the insomnia is a symptom of his condition. Do you understand? So that we can figure out how to treat him.'”_

 

“Insomnia?”

“Yes. The break happened while I was in Foster care. I had a hard time sleeping in such an unfamiliar place, not knowing where my siblings were and not knowing when I'd be able to see them again. If we'd run away, if we'd flown out we would've been put into missing persons and it was just . . . Our parents told us not to chance it. That they'd figure everything out. My breakdown coincided with Lucifer's first night in Juvie.”

**  
** _ “'The trouble sleeping . . . is kind of new. He's having a hard time adjusting to foster care.' _

_'Right. Well... we've pumped him about as full of sedatives as we safely can. So far, he won't go under. I've never seen anything like it.'_

_At this point, my conscious was flickering between my own and Lucifer's._

_My eyes passed to Luci's then for an instant and I saw a guard leading Luci, pushing a button to enter Ward D2. There was a sign on the wall and a door reading “High Security Area”._

_Then my sight came back to myself._

_And I was in my hospital room._

_And Luci's was there._

_He was sitting on the desk, playing with a piece of string. I was on the bed, dressed in a white T-shirt and white hospital pants._

_Luci was just talking and_ talking _. 'Back home . . . we never had trouble sleeping.'_

_That's how I spent my first night in the hospital.”_

  
“And Meg? When did Meg come in?”

“She was a new nurse.”

“Wait . . . WAIT A MINUTE.”

“Yeah?”

“IS MEG A PEDOPHILE?”

Cas laughs. “Yes and no. Technically she's my age but she's in an older body.”

“Wah. HOW?”

“I have no doubt you've watched Young Justice.”

“Hell yes I've watched YOUNG JUSTICE. I WILL NEVER NOT BE PISSED THAT THEY CANCELLED THAT SHOW!”

“You know how Superboy looks 16 but is actually less than a year old?”

“Yeah? Oh.” I breathe.

“It's a similar process. Just. Not so drastic. The age difference is still about 10 between her body age and her mental age. Though her body doesn't age so it's probably less of a discrepency now.”

“Why?”

“Because of her demonology.”

“. . . there're a lot of species I need to learn about, aren't there?”

“Yes, yes there are.”

“So how'd you guys end up as an item.”

“You know how you're always teaching me about things? I had known she was a demon on sight, but she'd tried to appear older than her demonic age, and that had given me some indications that she was NOT that age. She would say things that our generation says and she would get tripped up on things her bodily generation _should_ have known.”

“How 'bout now?”

“ _Now?_ Now she's the most confident person in the world. Like Gabriel, only _sassier_. ”

I can hardly imagine.

 

“ _I laid in bed with my eyes closed as lightning flashed and thunder clapped._

_Meg, who was going by Nurse Masters, was sitting by my bed listening to music and reading a magazine. She raised her eyes from the magazine to as I sat up and turned to look at her.”_

 

“WHY was Meg there? Posing as a Nurse?”

“She was watching a specific patient.”

“. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .”

“Not me.”

I smirk. My babe can totally read my thoughts.

 

“ _'Hey, Clarence. Look at you, walkin' and talkin'. That's great.' She sniped._

_I stood up from my bed and walked over to her, pointing my finger at her._

_'Pull my finger.'_

_'What?' She looked so annoyed at me._

_'My finger – pull it.'_

_Humoring me, she did so. There was a crash, the lights went out and the window and light fixtures shattered. I laughed._

_With a put upon sigh, Meg'd turned on a lamp._

_'Alright, not that that wasn't adorable, Cassie, but let the two of us catch up for a sec.'_

_'Of course, thornbee.' I smiled, sitting down on the cold linoleum floor in front of her chair. I looked up at her like she was a goddess._

_'Do you remember who you are? Your name? What you are? Your species?'_

_'Yes. Of course. Oh. Outside today, in the garden, I followed a honeybee. I saw the route of flowers. It's all right there, the whole plan. There's nothing to add.'_

_'That's great, Cas. But you didn't answer my question.'_

_'I'm Castiel, I'm an angel.' I recited._

_'Yes, you are. Now where's your brother today?'_

_'He's standing behind you, Meg my love.'_

_Her brows raised incredulously. 'And what is he doing?'_

_'Crying.'_

_Meg's eyes downcasted. I'd been in hospital nearly 3 months. Had felt and heard Lucifer being raped and beaten and scream for hours on end. At the beginning Meg'd hated me, angel and demon that we were, but she had been tasked with helping me get to sleep. Helping me survive the torment. And she'd learned about me and my siblings and had begun to care and we'd grown close._

_'Why don't you talk to him? Tell him you've been like the naked guy at the rave ever since you woke up last week. Totally useless.'_

_'Yes ma'am. Luci, did you hear was my caretaker said?'_

_'I heard, Cassie. I heard.' He said. But I think it wasn't really him. I think he'd hidden in his subconscious, in me and so when he awoke he didn't remember. Still doesn't._

_'Meg, do you wish to write with me?'_

_'We've been over this. I don't like poetry.'_

_'Yes. I heard a ping that pierced me, and, well, you wouldn't have heard it unless you were an angel at the time. You would've have heard it unless you could feel the bars and hear the binds.'_

_'You woke up because of Lucifer?'_

_'Did you know that a cat's penis is sharply barbed along its shaft? I know for a fact the females were not consulted about that.'_

_'Ah, what's I gonna do with a broken angel?' Meg murmured._

_'Let's go to the Playroom.' I said as I stood up, pulling her by the hand._

_We walked down the hallway._

_I stopped at the doorway to the dayroom and looked at Lucifer, who was sitting at a table with his back to us, before walking over to join him._

_'Cas, you realize what's happening, right?'_

_'Yes yes. Of course.' I said as I sat down beside my big brother. Meg stood before us._

_Luci was silent, but he leant against me, put his head on my shoulder, let his tears warm my shoulder._

_'You realize it's Luci's thing, right? That you're taking on his, cage-match scars. That's what broke your back to start, right? You need to push him out of yourself.'_

_'No, it took . . . everything to get us here. He's doing better. We'll be better. Once we're out. I'll be better than. He'll be safe then.'_

_'What are you talking about, man?'_

_'We'll be home free.'_

_'You're damaged.'_

_'I know you want different answers.'_

_'You're not making sense._

_I held up the board game_ Sorry! _Shook it once, and the board and pieces appeared on the table, set up and ready to play._

_I set the box aside._

_'Do you want to go first?'”_

 

“So Meg knows about Hallucifer?”

“You did not just call him that.” Cas deadpans.

I succinctly ignore it. “You're editing your stories, aren't you?”

“I don't want to violate Luci's privacy by telling you things he may not even know that _I_ know happened.”

 

“ _Meg picked up a_ Sorry! _card._

_'You know, we weren't sure at first which Great Apes were gonna make it. No offense, but every time I get to experience those memories, get to share them from older angels, I –” Meg moved a marker on the board. “-- back the Neanderthals because their poetry was . . . just amazing. It's in perfect tune –” I picked up a card “– with the spheres. But in the end, it was modern humans – the – ” I moved another marker. “– homo sapiens sapiens. They 'ate the apple', invented pants.'_

_'Are there any – '_

_'I'm sorry. I – I think you have to go back to start.' I interrupted._

_Meg moved a marker. 'Cas.'_

_I moved then motioned for her to pick up another card. She did and moved another marker._

_I picked up another card._

_'We live in a_ sorry _universe. It's engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should we prosper from . . ._ human _misfortune?' I put down a marker and moved Meg's marker back to the start. 'But these are the rules. We didn't make them.'_

_'God did, right?'_

_'Meg. . . it's your move.'_

_'Did God make the rules, Cas?'_

_'I don't know.'_

_She mulled over my words. 'I may have misjudged you angels.'_

 

“You turned a demon to the side of angels.”

“Unintentionally. And without trying.”

“What hope does Adam have?”

“Different hospital. Different ward-type. Different reason for admission. Honestly? I have no idea how he's gonna do.”

“The reconnaissance squad should be back any time now and we can make our move.”

* * *

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Gabriel asks as they _blink!_ into our hotel room.

All those left behind to sort out wills and catch our breaths are standing around now, waiting for our spies to tell us how this mission's gonna have to be played out.

“Bad news.” Sammy answers.

Gabriel, Lucifer, and Michael were the reconnaissers.

“The Hospital is fully warded. No way in or out via flight.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I spit.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Then how the fuck do we get him out?”

“To get him out you have to get yourself in.” Michael intones.

“Wha – ?”

“You're gonna need to be admitted. And then you can get him out from the inside.”

“Who's 'you'?” Jody inquires.

“Dean, Sam, and Cas.”

“Why us three?”

“Because, he needs his brothers. And you need an angel with you. Plus Meg.”

We're all silent for a minute.

“When do we go in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY but it only gets worse


	7. Welcome to Arkham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long; and im REALLY sorry if it's subpar
> 
> ALSO; please point out if they ever use each others' real names around other people while in Hospital, please. I tried to triple check but I might've missed a few.
> 
> (Messing with transcripts is hard)
> 
> please tell me if anything doesn't make sense XD

_**Glenwood Springs Psychiatric Hospital** _

**Ketchum, Oklahoma**

  
Dr. Fuller's office reminds me of that pedophilic Doctor's office from t hat _Criminal Minds_ episode entitled “ The Uncanny Valley” where the doctor's daughter was kidnapping petite women to replace dolls she'd lost. There are so many toys decorating the floor to ceiling shelves behind his desk. Like, sometimes it's cute and not creepy for people to do that but do you ever just have a _gut feeling_ about someone?

I've got that  feeling right now.

Probably doesn't help that I know demons choose this hospital time and time again to imprison their playthings because they've  _ groomed  _ it to be horrible, disgusting, American Horror Story Asylum worthy. 

And all run by humans that are just  _ terrible human beings _ .

With a few demons sprinkled here and there to up the ante.

Having Meg as a spy on the inside was a good idea and I'm really glad she contacted us but I'm also really concerned and worried about what the hell these assholes have been doing to my youngest brother.

Sam and I were led to Dr. Fuller's office nearly 10 minutes ago.

Said doctor, an older-than-middle-aged-white-man that's so cliché, has just arrived and sits primly without so much as glancing at us as he opens a file at his desk and flips through some loose pages. I can't a glimpse of one and realize that _no_ it's not either of ours' files – it's times like these that I'm glad I can read upside-down. One leaflet is a newspaper article that reads: "Young boy dies tragically in early morning hours fire."

I glance at Sammy, eyes wide, and nod at the file.

He gives me a knowing nod back, smartly _not_ saying anything.

Dr. Fuller shuffles the pages, making sure they're all in order again before grabbing a separate, _thinner_ file and giving us his attention.

“So, Misters – ” Dr. Fuller riffles through the file. “Smith and Wesson.” He says, pointing to first me – Smith – then Sam – Wesson; half-brothers from Illinois.

“The two of you were referred to me by a Dr. Babar in Chicago.”

“That's right.”

“Isn't there a children's book about an elephant named Babar?”

“I don't know. I don't have any elephant books. Look, Doctor, I-I-I think the doc was in over his head with this one.” I point to Sammy. “See . . . 'cause my brother is . . . kinda . . .”

I sign “sick in the head” in ASL, but the Doc just narrows his eyes in a Cas-like-but-so-not-cute reaction, so instead I roll my eyes and cringe so hard as I do – what I deem to be wildly inappropriate – and make the " _crazy sign_ ," circling my finger at the side of my head and whistling like a bird.

Huh, do we do that because of cuckoo _birds_?

Dr. Fuller raises a hand to stop me.

At least he knows that's inappropriate.

“Okay, yes _fine_ , thank you. That's really _not_ necessary.” Dr. Fuller grabs our files and his notepad. “Why don't you tell me how you're feeling, Henry?” FYI, Sam is Henry.

I have to keep reminding myself of our names.

Mine's the easiest of easy: John Smith.

His is Henry Wesson.

They've been playing on repeat in my head for at least 2 hours.

Sammy sighs before replying to the doc. “I'm fine. I mean, okay, a little depressed, _I guess_.”

Dr. Fuller writes in his notepad and asks. “Any ideas why?”

Sam, completely straight-faced, replies. “Probably because I started the apocalypse.”

Dr. Fuller seems to decide this is interesting because he stills, puts his writing implement down gently upon the notepad, and looks up at Sam with a cool _calm_ expression on his face. “The apocalypse?” He monotones.

“Yeah, that's right.” Sam replies with a kind of . . . kind of . . . pride? In his voice. After a minute of cautious staring, Dr. Fuller finally takes his eyes off my little brother to glance at me. I smile. “And you think _you_ started it?”

“Well, yeah, I mean . . . I killed this demon, Lilith, and I accidentally freed Lucifer from hell. So now, he's topside, and we're trying to stop him.” Sam reads off his lines like a prodigy.

I make a highly exasperated face when Dr. Fuller gives another glance my way. “Who is?”

“Me. A-and him.” Sammy points at me hesitantly. “And this one angel.”

“Oh, you mean, like a . . . like an angel on your shoulder.”

“No. His name's Castiel. He wears a trench coat.”

Dr. Fuller purses his lips, going back to taking notes.

“See what I mean, Doc?” I start. “The kid's been beating himself up about this for months. But the apocalypse wasn't his fault.”

I think I just gave Dr. Fuller whiplash. His eyes flash up to mine _so fast_ and his expression is just _so STUNNED_. “ It's not?”

“No. There was this other demon, Ruby. She got him addicted to demon blood, and near the end, he was practically chugging this stuff.”

Dr. Fuller glances at Sammy, who looks ashamed, before his eyes track back to me.

“My brother's not evil. He was just . . . high . . . yeah? So, could you fix him up so we can get back to traveling around the country and hunting monsters? _Please._ ”

Dr. Fuller is silent. Staring at us like we've got three heads each for a while.

Then he puts up a finger for us to wait before picking up his phone and dials an extension.

“Irma . . . cancel my lunch.”

As the doctor hangs up, I pat Sam comfortingly on the arm.

SUCK. SESS.

* * *

The hallway is the color that all hospital hallways seem to be.

Y'know; that pale vomit green color?

A way-to-happy nurse leads us down said hall; his dandelion scrubs actually coordinating nicely with the walls.

Does anyone else think scrubs are cute? Or is that just me? 'Cause I kinda do.

Apparently I'm distracted by their butt swishing in their scrubs because I only catch the end of their speech. “ – keep you both under observation for a couple of days.”

“ _Both_? Me, too?” I feign surprise; opening my eyes wide and dropping my jaw just slightly.

“Yes, Sugar. The doctor thinks that would be best.”

When Happy Nurse turns his back Sammy and I exchange victorious smiles.

* * *

(The whole way down the hall and through the rest of the throw-up-flavored hospital we make mental note of the layout and the exit doors and the windows and their possible escape potentials)

* * *

They take us to a Check-Up Room first and foremost.

I wink at Sam before swaggering into the room Happy Nurse directs me to. (Yes, I _swagger_ in. Gotta say it's a harder walk than it looks.)

Happy Nurse wraps a sphygmomanometer (a blood pressure cuff) around my right arm.

“Alright, I'm just gonna give you a little check-up.”

_Really? I would've never guessed that. What with us being in a Check-Up Room and all. No, that thought never crossed my mind._

“Look, Nurse Ratched, I've seen _Cuckoo's Nest_ , so can we skip any soul-crushing or authoritarianism, please?”

“Did you read the book too?” He asks, glancing at me quickly before returning to his task.

“Had to for school.”

Happy Nurse smiles, shaking his head good-humoredly. “Well, fortunately, I'm not Big Nurse in here.”

I nod in understanding; my smile turning a little uncomfortable.

Now I'm worrying who _is_ the Big Nurse here.

Happy Nurse takes the blood pressure cuff off of my arm.

“Alright, you can go ahead and take down your pants.”

I look up at him, my face literally fallen and my body language as uncomfortable as it's ever been. No doubt an expression of pure horror displayed on my face. “Wait, w-what? W-what for? I thought you _weren't_ Nurse Ratched!?”

Happy Nurse snaps a rubber glove on, smiling patiently over at me.

FUCKIN' HELL.

* * *

I never wanna do that again.

* * *

Except with Cas.

* * *

Like, _a lot_ with Cas.

* * *

The Patient Lounge, surprisingly, is _not_ barf-colored. Instead it's that pale blue that most people would associate with nurses' scrubs, that misty blue that's worn most often in shows when they depict hospital settings.

I recline across a rock-hard-godsbedamned-this-is-uncomfortable couch, decked out in my new, _pristine_ white patient scrubs and rockin' my assigned shoes and my olive green robe.

Staring up and making constellations in the dotted ceiling as I wait for Sammy to get out of his own Check-Up.

It's only a few minutes before Sammy walks up; wearing the same thing.

Poor kid looks frazzled.

“How was your Silkwood shower?” I jest.

“Okay. Good. Yeah, gooood.” Sammy stumbles, eyes wandering. “Yeah, it was good, um – good water pressure. So, did the nurse . . . ?” My little bro blushes. I cringe at his uneasiness.

“She was very thorough, lil bro.”

“Yeah. Yeah, good. That's good. Yeah.” He stumbles again. Poor baby.

(Though gotta say that I'm not up for repeating the experience. Not with her, at least . . . Maybe I should have a talk with Gabriel, too, when we make it out of here. Tell him that Sam maybe wouldn't ever want to bottom. Shouldn't be a problem, just, should warn him for when the time comes.)

I look 'round at the lounge, taking in the windows again and counting the doors and scanning the locks, spying the other patients.

There's one female patient playing with a pink bunny.

( _That'll be Cas pretty soon._ )

Unfortunately, there's no sign of Adam.

“I can't believe I let you talk me into this.” Sam hisses, stomping passed me. I smirk, pushing up from the lousy couch and following my just-violated sibling over to a window-side table where a nice-looking chess set lives.

“We have to find Adam. It's the least we could do for our. _Younger. Brother_. ” I emphasize.

Sam looks up with a guilty twinge. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

“I know, little bro. Believe me, _I know_.” Sammy shivers like a tentacle were sliming up his spine.

We decide to play the game and wait for our next co-conspirator to arrive.

I'm Black and he's White.

* * *

The Patient Lounge's door opens, the sound swishing through the room.

We pretend not to be interested, looking down at our board with intense eyes. Gazes locked on our pieces.

I make my move, not really paying attention anymore.

Out of the corner of my eye and in the back of my hearing I recognize the profile and voice; my mouth twitching up in a smirk.

I force myself not to turn. To not give  _any_ indication that I or my brother know who the newcomer is.

A few moves later, a shadow falls over the checkered board.

A hand reaches out, a calmness in the motion and a calculation in the action, and takes my rook, moving it I don't know where and then a gravelly voice says: “Check Mate.”

Sam's eyes scrunch up, trying to decipher how in the hell he lost.

I just smile, looking up to find our newly admitted angel.

Cas pulls up a chair and huffs his way into it.

His name here is Emmanuel.

We reset the pieces; wasting time till either Adam or Meg make their inevitable appearances.

Black ends up winning three games in a row thanks to Castiel.

* * *

“Well now, and I'd hoped to never see you back in a place like this.” A deep feminine drawl silks over our table.

My head jerks up at that voice. Finding a round face that looks way to soft and sweet for those calculating and cold eyes. Pale skin, black hair and thick cheeks all lookin' down at Cas – MY CAS – with sweetness in her eyes so so sooooooo not used on anyone else.

What with the short glances she's passing my way, I'd be surprised if she looks at me with anything less than disdain. EVER.

But maybe I'm just projecting.

But seriously she's looking like she wants to climb into my Alpha's lap.

Which isn't a bad idea.

Just that she's not allowed to do it.

Not without my permission. (And Cas' permission.)

Which she's gonna have to earn.

“Meg!” Cas whisper-yells. We were given strict instructions to act like we didn't know each other (except Sammy and me, of course). Cas, Sammy and I are supposed to be newbie-buddies and Meg is simply one of our nurses. (One who no doubt is going to dote on Cas, to my chagrin.)

“Clarence,” Meg grins.

“You haven't aged a day.”

“Of course not. I'm keeping this body in perfect stasis, wouldn't want to zombify, would I?”

_Ew._ I don't even wanna know.

 

 

 

Okay. Yes, I do; but at another time.

 

Meg runs her hand through Cas' hair like she's petting a fluffy cat – HANDS OFF, MAMA! – and leans in sultrily, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, body language sensuous and vivacious. Gods but seriously though, SCRUBS.

Her's pull a little tight around the bodice and the colors complement her inarguable, a deep wine color paired with a navy blue undershirt; a coordination that shoots blue highlights through her night-rich mane.

If she weren't all up on my angel I'd probably be more impressed by her beauty.

For now I'm just impressed by her presence.

Because damn, you know how Queens always have this presence that just demands respect? Or at least,  _they should_ . No, hold up. Wait. Better analogy. You know Lena Headey? Meg's got that presence that Lena Headey commands whether she's playing Queen Gorgo in  _300_ or Cersei Lannister in  _Game of Thrones_ .

It's that same I-am-female-and-I-don't-take-no-male's-shit-I've-got-the-power-to-bring-life-and-I-can-take-it-away-just-as-easily-so-you-best-heed-me presence.

I always admired that quality in my mother, Jody and Ellen.

But they're full grown and have been around the block a few times; have seen and experiences a lot of the bad this world can spit up on you.

Jo's started gaining her presential power as well, and Charlie when the mood takes her, but Meg, WOOOoooooooOOOooooOooooooOOOOOoooOooOOOooooo, Meg seems to have already  _owned_ her's.

Makes me wonder what all that she's seen.

She pulls away with a smile, squatting between my chair and Cas', face even with the chess board and pieces, nonchalant and easy-going. “So, how are you adjusting on your first day?” She asks us as a group, going into nurse-mode.

“No complaints so far.”

“No complaints?” Sam bursts, blushing, then scoffing a mutter of “ _my ass_ ” under his breath.

“Besides with regards to your  _mandatory_ check-up and inspection.” She emphasizes, passing a sickly-sweet glare to my  erred little bro.

Sam turns to face the window, continuing his underbreath mutterings like we're no longer here. All I catch is “ _minions of hell all of you_ ” before his voice gets too low to hear. Meg suppresses what looks like a snort and smirk, schooling her face into that calm nurse-mode once again. Obviously highly amused.

“Everything has been adequate. So far better than my previous hospitalization.” Cas intones.

I flinch. Sam tenses.

We never really spelled it out to Sam about Cas' hospitalization.

I mean . . . he knows the barest of the bones. But no meat.

Meg's eyes storm.

The ferocity in them shocks me, makes me wanna take an impossible step back or run for the hills. The look, not gonna lie, is scarier than any look Kali ever gave me. And she'd  _literally_ tried (succeeded?) to kill me. In Meg's eyes in a hurricane to rival Katrina, but with one blink it's gone.

Her eyes now the  _Eye_ of the Storm and her body . . . the  _Body_ .

_I REALLY need to work on my metaphors._

I shake my head. Disappointed in myself for my terrible choice of words, but really thankful no one else can hear inside my head . . . hopefully.

Fuck.

HOPEFULLY no one heard me butcher that comparison.

But knowing my luck, there's probably a proper telepath in this damned hospital and –

Hold up.

Fuck. Shit. Shit shit shit shitshitshiTSHITSHITSHITSHIT _SHIT._

I straighten up like I've been fuckin'  _whipped_ .

“Guys,” I hiss. Their eyes twitch to me nervously. “What if there are telepaths here? Telepaths.  _Not. Our. Allies._ ”

They're silent for a moment, assessing and assorting through my words.

“That's not a bad concern to have.” Meg answers, sounding pleasantly startled. She turns to Cas. “I was worried pretty boy here wouldn't be good enough for you, but maybe . . .” she trails off as Cas smirks.  _Pretty boy?_

Is  _that_ how Cas described me?

Wait. Hold on. “When did you have time to talk about me?”

“While weaving this plan, of course.” Meg waves me off.

She seems extremely blasé now, while she so recently was concerned with secrecy. I twerked an eyebrow, glancing around our table, trying to be surreptitious about it and probably failing. Peripherally I witness Meg's lip curve up sideways, watching me with unabashed amusement. “What's so funny?” I bite out under my breath.

“Cassie here's shielding our voices from others. Humans can't sense it.  _Others_ sometimes attribute it to simple angel secrecy so it won't appear weird even to those of us in the know with extra senses.”

_Oh_ . “Oh, good.”

“That said. Angels aren't the only ones prone to secrecy here.”

_Oh._ “Uh oh.”

“Notice anything missing?”

Sam and Cas discreetly look 'round, but I don't need to. “Adam.”

Meg gives a subtle nod, moving forward to move one of the White to check my Black king. Cas moves on autopilot, saving my monarch easily.

“Where  _is_ Adam?” I ask, watching as the two of them take over the game.

“In the basement.”

I share a look with Sammy, because  _what?_ We researched the hospital, the building, got our hands on a copy of the blueprints quite easily; and no where NO WHERE did we find any  _hint_ of a basement.

Our thoughts must show on our faces because Meg just rolls her eyes, a huff and snort joining in, a verified, true-blue sass-master as she stands with a hand on her cocked hip. She gives us that stereotypical teacher/big-sister/angry-girlfriend pose that shows off her hips and really fuckin' terrifies me – I mean seriously if someone's not scared of the power in a female's hips, hips that fuckin' PUSH OUT SMALL HUMANS, then they're crazy and like it's this powerful stance that puts their legs on display and if you've ever actually looked at a thick female's thighs and not thought they could KILL than I don't understand you because though that pose has been turned into something laughable and degrading by misogynistic assholes it's sincerely strong and shows off some of the plentiful,  _ powerful _ fucking assets of the female body – and she's doing it now and all that power and sass a re directed at me.

“You're opponents aren't human,  _human_ . Remember that.” And then she's gone. 

Adios. Arrivederci.  じゃ まった. Прощание. Later!

* * *

It isn't till Meg's completely out of sight and mind that Cas breaks the Chess-imposed silence.

“Meg just 'radioed' me the basement blueprints.”

“After lights out?”

Sam and Cas nod.

* * *

Cas ends up in the same room as Sam and I. It seems like a miracle, but we realize soon enough that it's one of Meg's assigned rooms and she'd planned it that way. Choreographed the last patients to be . . . let go . . . so that we could scrunch up together.

I don't want to know how she accomplished such a feat.

But Meg's not alone. 

Another nurse accompanies her and she needs to play her part.

“Time for meds.”

My breath hitches.

The three of us are on our beds. The fourth bed in the room unoccupied, although there are personal items around it, it's owner obviously still in hospital.

Somewhere.

We're sat as straight as arrows awaiting the nurse to come round with our prescribed medications.

There's a knot in my stomach the size of Texas. 

* * *

Our fourth roommate arrives in the morning, and we're encouraged to get to know one another. Dr. Fuller rounds us up for a Group Therapy and we move our asses at sluggish paces.

Cas' Grace helps us metabolize our meds at a mega fast rate, but after a heavy dose it still takes an hour or so for it to burn off.

I found this out when I woke up in out-of-knowwhere, excruciating pain at 3 AM.

Cas had had to wrap me in his wings and hold me tight as I writhed; but eventually, even that pain eased under the blanket of my angel's Grace.

The Group Therapy room is gray, and there are five other patients besides me, Sam, Cas, and our roommate Theodore, all of us sitting in a circle with Dr. Fuller.

“Who would like to start us off?” The doc asks.

Theodore raises his hand.

An angry glint in the doctor's eyes makes me take notice; “Anyone else?” He booms.

Theodore raises his hand a little higher. His emotion is clear. _Defiant_.

“Alright, Theodore, alright. Calm down.” Dr. Fuller lifts half his lips, a farce of a smile.

Theodore lowers his hand; eyes hard and voice steady beside me. I keep my eyes forward, keep my face impersonal and incurious. “I _am calm_. And I'd very calmly like to talk about the monster that's hunting us.”

My shoulders tense, but I keep my face neutral as I glance around the circle.

Gauging everyone's reactions.

I watch as some of our fellow patients tense, squirm uncomfortably, or tug at their scrubs in nervous anxiety.

“Ted, we're not going to have that discussion again.” Dr. Fuller's voice is hard.

His expression harder.

And it's then that it sinks in that my original assumption of the man was correct. He may not be a pedophile, but he's just as detestably cruel and immoral. Preying on the weak and powerless and taking pleasure from it.

Sam, Castiel and I exchange looks, each of us intrigued.

“It's not good for group.” Dr. Fuller continues. There's a tension to the air that I've only felt when an Angel's wings are readying for flight. A shiver goes up my spine. I'd never asked about Demon anatomy before.

Do, or _can_ , they have wings?

I try to convey my inquiry to Cas, but to no avail.

“I must agree. You know what else isn't good for group? A monster eating all our faces off!” Theodore is not calm, not really. He may never have been but I think it's a reaction to Dr. Fuller himself, _not_ a monster. The monster's incited fear, but the doctor's incited anger.

“Alright, _fine_ , thank you. _Now_ , anyone else?”

“I saw it . . . when it _killed_ Susan!” From the corner of my eye I spy Sam lean forward, elbows on his knees and hands over his mouth. His 'I'm intrigued' face.

Another patient calls out; unhelpfully. “I did, too. It had big lobster claws.”

“No, it didn't.” Theodore bites.

“Yeah, and it was like an alien, like on X-Files.” The other patient tries again.

“Stop it! Stop helping. Listen to me. We're all dead!” Theodore yells. Cool officially slipped.

“That's enough.” Dr. Fuller commands, leaning forward and taking off his glasses. “There is _no monster_.” He says. Eyes. _Hard._ “Now, Ted, are you going to stop or do you need me to call the orderlies . . .” The AGAIN is implied. 

Sam side-eyes Dr. Fuller.

Theodore shakes his head.

“. . . or can you behave?” Dr. Fuller continues.

Theodore, after a pregnant pause, nods. “Behave.”

Cas, Sam and I exchange glances again.

* * *

It's after Group that Cas and I go exploring.

Sam opts to go to the creative workshop and get some one-on-one talking time with other patients, get to know them and their experiences in the ward.

Using Meg's sent blueprints, Cas leads us in the direction of the basement.

Or . . . what we think is the direction of the basement.

Except we end up in the Morgue.

“Uh . . .” I say, articulately as C as opens a drawer; pulling out a very dead blondx. 

I ignore him in favor of searching the room. Trying, unsuccessfully, to find a hidden or trap door or hollow board or _something_ to point to a secret entrance to the basement. To my disappointment, I find nothing.

When I return to my angel's side, Cas is pulling back the corpse's sheet and, all-too-calmly, starts feeling the blondx's head. 

Confused as to what Cas may be doing, I decide it's better to help than to hinder and begin to search the dead's hands. 

After a few short minutes Cas makes a noise close to “ah ha!” 

He turns the dead's head to the side, exposing a plain of skin for my inspection, and I spy two holes just behind their ears.

“I think I found something.”

“I'll say. What the hell do you think made those?”

“Seeing as this corpse is fresh and unembalmed, we can discount that.”

“Do you think it's supernatural?”

“Can't discount it.” Cas says, moving the head a little more to the side. “Here, give me a hand.” I hold the head as he turns, grabbing a long Q-tip from a surgical table. When he turns back and delicately sticks the cotton-swab far into the hole. It was unexpected and I grimace, a little grossed out.

Cas grimaces too. “This hole goes all the way through to his brain.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

I will never be more surprised by my angel than I am now. 

Cas obviously spotted a bone saw when he grabbed the Q-tip, because after a moment of pawing around with his back to me, he turns 'round with one in his hand. “Let's find out.” My dark-winged angel grins.

My eyes are wide, but I think my mouth is giving a scrunched up version of an amused smile. “Seriously?” That smile turns into a smirk.

Cas beams. “You might want to keep watch.”

“Yes, sir.” I wink, going over to take my post at the morgue doors. 

Keeping watch as my boyfriend wishes.

When I hear the bone saw start up, I can't help my disgusted frown.

When I finally work up the courage to glance back, through the morgue door window, it's just in time to see Cas take the top of the blondx's head off; revealing, then subsequently _removing_ their brain. 

Their brain is a small, hard, black thing. 

Gray matter it certainly is.

A sound down the call catches my attention and I snap 'round, listening intently; hearing a door open, I peak down the hall. 

_Shit._ Quick as a cat, I retreat back into the morgue. 

“Cas,” I hiss.

Cas turns to me, holding up the brain like Rafiki did Simba. “Look, his brain's been sucked dry.” 

_Ew._ “That's fascinating, really, truly fascinating and disgusting, and _DEFINITELY_ supernatural, but someone's coming.”

I hurry to clean up as Cas uses angel-powers to work faster, putting the blondx's brain back in their head just as the sound of footsteps begins to sound from down the hall. As the claps from outside close-in, Cas puts the head back on, and as the shoes approach the morgue doors, I help Cas roll the corpse back into their assigned drawer.

Cas removes his bloody gloves, throwing them in the trashcan just in time.

_Just in time_ for Happy Nurse to walk in on us. 

“What are you two doing in here?” Happy Nurse interrogates, smile kind. 

Cas glances at me, close to my side, unable to think of something. I shrug, rolling my eyes before I decide to FUCK IT and pull down my pants, throwing my arms up over my head as I straighten up. 

With a dopey smile I scream: “Pudding!” 

Happy Nurse's eyes are amused, their lips twisted up in a suspicious smile. “Alright, you two, follow me.”

I keep my smile goofy and take a few steps with my pants still down before Happy Nurse goes 'screw it' and comes over to help me, wrenching my pants up like you would with a toddler. I giggle manically, pearing at Cas over the nurse's back. 

Once my pants are fastened and safe again, Happy Nurse heads for the door.

When I turn back to face my bae, he just smirks at me. 

Me: * whispers * “Making people uncomfortable works.”

Cas chuckles as we follow our nurse out the door, mumbling under his breath “I don't think _that's_ why it worked, _John_.”

* * *

When we return to our room I freeze, my lungs and heart and throat plummeting to my gut at the sight that greats us.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Sam is sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes closed as Happy Nurse, Cas and I enter. He looks like hell. Pale with red eyes and arms limp at his side.

_How long have we been gone?_

“Henry, how are we feeling? Rib pain – scale of 1 to 10?”

Rib pain? WHAT _RIB PAIN_?

“UHH, EXCUSE M – ?”

“It's – it's not bad. Um . . . th-three?” Sammy responds, voice listless and wobbly.

No. Seriously. HOW LONG WERE WE GONE? WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY LITTLE BROTHER???

I stand stalk still.

Eyes wide and focused on my baby bro.

“You don't have to lie, Henry.” Happy Nurse responds.

“I-I'm no-ot-t.” Sammy stammers.

“You've suffered terrible agony. I mean, your 10 must be astronomical.”

“Uhm, Excu–”

“Ye-yeah. I-I guess I have a high thresh-threshold.”

“Yes, but – ”

“EXCUSE ME!”

Happy Nurse turns to pin me with a displeased glare. “What do you mean 'YOU'VE SUFFERED TERRIBLE AGONY'?”

“Your brother was given treatment this afternoon.”

Treatment? “TREATMENT?”

“Electroshock therapy.”

what. What. WHAT. “ _WHAT!_ ” I scream. “YOU PUT MY LITTLE BROTHER THROUGH ELECTROSHOCK THERAPY?! WHY?!?!?!?!”

“I'm sorry, John, but that information is not available for your purview.”

“The hell does THAT MEAN?”

“It means that you do not have access to the information. I'm sorry.”

“BULLSHIT! He's my _little brother_!”

“I'm sorry, John. If you have any questions, direct them to Dr. Fuller.” Happy Nurse states, smiling before taking his leave with my unfortunately-lazer-visionless-eyes on his back.

When he's gone my full attention jumps back to my little brother.

My _hurt_ little brother.

My recently  _electrocuted_ little brother.

I'm gonna kill these bastards.  
Sam is sitting on his bed; now yawning.

Before I can even take a step forward though an orderly brings in a tray laden with supper. Cas turns to the orderly first and picks up a plate holding a sandwich, sitting down on his bed like an obedient patient. I stomp to the orderly and grab the last two plates, taking one to my damaged brother while spitefully ignoring the intruding hospital staff. I put the plates beside him, picking up a sandwich and holding it in front of my lips hopefully. He sags, before reluctantly opening his mouth and taking a tentative bite.

After a minute, his eyes lift up to meet mine.

And I see it then.

Cas' proximity is helping.

But there has been damage done. There's a mix of emotions in those eyes; resignation, fury, vengeance, fear.

But for some reason; I don't think the fear's for us.

_Adam._ I fear for him too.

* * *

It's 3 AM when the wailing cry of a banshee wakes me up.

I shoot upright and scan the room with terror in my gut.

Cas is on his bed, back bowed and hands clutching his head, looking like he's possessed as he writhes in agony.

Jumping from my bed, I rush to my babe, Sam hot on my tail while Theodore stays rooted in his bed, watching with bored eyes. No doubt used to this type of occurrence.

Cas is thrashing as Sam and I hold him down.

His eyes are flashing and the sounds coming from his mouth are inhuman and WE NEED TO SHUT HIM UP. Fuck. We can't have the orderlies coming in and seeing this and . . . come to think of it, Meg's assigned to our room.

So . . . maybe it won't be too bad.

Or maybe it'll be worse.

Sam and I repeat Cas' name till our voices are hoarse. We take a pillow and smother Cas' mouth, try and silence him, making sure to pull up every few seconds and to not cover his nose too heavily. We monitor his breathing and try to FORCE HIM INTO SUBMISSION.

It isn't till I climb onto the bed and straddle my babe that he finally begins to still.

I've got my hands on his wrists and my hips on his and my face IN HIS FACE and I yell his name. I try to get his attention, but finally what does it is me biting Cas' neck.

He jolts at the action, his whole body tensing and then . . . lowering.  _Slowly_ .

When he's flat and his breathing rapid, I unclench my jaw.

Looking down on him from above, I see his eyes; unfocused and confused and sad.

But then they focus on me and he just . . . he looks  _devastated_ .

My body is slack, otherwise it'd take longer for him to get out of my grip, but he weasels out  _quick_ and then I'm surrounded by angel and warmth and love and . . . tears.

My hands come up automatically, petting through Cas' soft hair as he sobs against my chest.

“Shhh, sweetie, I'm here.” I don't know why, but I know Cas needs to hear it.

Peripherally, suddenly , a  white light appears; which becomes Theodore, shining a flashlight in all our faces. He's is standing behind Sammy.

He angles the flashlight _up_ , to illuminate the room like a lamplight.

“Ca – _Emman_? How you feeling now?” Sammy asks gently.

Theodore answers, voice matter-of-fact. “His soul is broken. Do you wanna give him a pill?”

“What do you mean 'his soul is broken'?” I whisper.

“I mean, he saw something that broke his soul.”

“When?”

“In his dreams.”

“His dreams?”

“Nightmares, really. But they're real . . . they're always real . . .” Theodore murmurs, eyes falling to the floor. After a few seconds of long silence, Theodore's voice whispers again; “I can only give you a few pills. The potential for overdose is too great.”

I'm about to say no. To say 'go away', but then Sammy does something out of my sight for a second, and when he's back he's lifting up Cas' hand to reveal his fingernails; which are bloody to the bed.

How, and  when, did that happen?

_What_ happened?

“Yes, please, Theodore.” I breathe out, clutching at Cas with my hair carded fingers, squeezing his thighs with mine and trying to inhale him.

His sobs have quieted and his body's no longer wracking.

But my mind is reeling and I need my honey better.

“Here.” Theodore's voice cuts in to my thoughts. He's holding out 3 pink pills. I don't know what they are, but I take them anyway. Cas can take more, something about his angel biology that Michael tried to explain but I didn't understand, and as I pop one, two, and three in to his mouth Theodore says; “You should make sure no one catches him. They're start talking about surgical solutions.”

“. . . surgical . . . solutions?”

“Lobotomy?” 

Theodore's silent.

For far longer than comfort demands. 

Then; “. . . one of the solutions.”

I don't answer him. Neither does Sam. Or Cas. How can we? 

“Emman. Babe? Are you with me? Emman?” I murmur into his silken hair, – angry that I have to use his fake name while in front of someone not in the know – rocking him back and forth, hand now massaging his shoulderblade and neck.

For a second, we see nothing but white light again. 

And then it's gone.

And so is Theodore.

And then Sammy.

Till it's just Cas and I on his bed together.

Our roommate's giving us alone time.

And I lay Cas down, laying over him and covering him gently. His arms stay clasped around me as his breathing evens out. I don't try to talk. I just let him hold me and I hold him back. And once his breathing is even and deep I give him a kiss on the cheek and tuck him into bed.

And then I promptly go have a panic attack in my own bed.

* * *

Dr. Fuller prompts us each to find our own forms of self-therapy.

We have to keep up appearances, so we abide by his request.

Theodore has a drawing journal.

Sammy requests books.

Cas requests books too; but his are specific to apiary.

I . . . well, I play board games . . . and steal Cas and Sammy's books when they aren't looking.

Meg appears two days in, entering our room under the pretense of med rounds.

It's only luck that the second she enters Theodore's showing us a drawing from his journal. She comes over, looking over his shoulder and quirking a brow. “Well now, how _interesting_. ” She breathes, eyes deep and dark and calculating as she confiscates the photo. “You have some imagination Mr. Wilson.” She purrs.

Theodore looks uncomfortable, but there's something about Meg's attention that's got mine.

“Why? What's up with it?” I ask her, glancing up.

“Emman informed me of your morgue discovery,” she says, not caring that Theodore's there as witness. “Well, I'd bet that what we're up against is a _wraith_.” Flipping the photo down, she sets her eyes on it's artist. “They crack open skulls and feed on brain juice. And _this little bug_ has bore witness to it's antics.”

Theodore's eyes are plates.

His jaw is dropped.

Then he jumps up and screams “I KNEW IT!” before muttering “I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it I knew it” like a reassuring mantra. Assuring himself of his sanity, reaffirming to himself that he's just been informed that what he saw wasn't a hallucination.

Cas whistles. “You ever tangle with one before?”

Oh. So Cas knows what a Wraith is.

“Never. Never wanted to. Never knew one was employed here, neither.”

Sammy groans, head finally popping up from where it'd been buried in ancient Sumerian history. “Any idea how to kill it?”

“Silver. Of course. You so much as touch a wraith with the stuff, and the skin will crackle.” Cas informs us.

“Yeah, but that's the good news. The bad news is that they can pass as human just as easily as he and me.” Meg announces, motioning between Cas and herself.

It's at these words that Theodore stills.

Still as a statue.

Then he turns, slowly and carefully, to look at Meg.

“Pass. As. Human.” He mutters, staring at her.

She smiles at him devilishly. “Don't worry. You're safe with us.”

“Mostly.” Sam murmurs. I kick his chair 'cause seriously, _seriously_ , we really don't need to be freaking out Theodore right now.

Speaking of which, Theodore looks around the room.

Giving each of us the stink eye before finally looking back at Meg.

“And what exactly _are_ you?” He asks her.

She just smiles before returning to our previous conversation.

“The wraith could be any Peter, Paul and Mary in this joint.”

“ _Fantastic_.” I'm succinctly ignoring Theodore's sounds of indignation as we ignore him. “So how do we find them?”

“And how do we know there's only _one_? ” Sammy _has to ask_.

I groan. “Why do you have to ask the important questions?”

Meg snorts before turning to look me dead-on. “You find them with a mirror.”

“Huh?”

“Lore says a wraith will show its true form in a mirror.” Cas speaks up.

“ _Lore_ says?”

“They're part of the supernatural that even supernatural tell stories about.”

“That even supernatural are _warned_ about.”

“Oh, _great_ , that's just great, that just means we gotta spot check each and every patient and staff member to see if they're one of the nightmares of the supernatural world.” I squeak.

“Looks like.” Very comforting.

Sammy nods, head tilted. “Yeah, but – I mean, what's it doing in a mental hospital run by demons? Are it, or they, there own entity inside the hospital or are they working for your demon overlords?”

“A nuthouse; demon ridden or not, is a perfect captive victim pool.”

“I take offense at that word, Meg.” She glances at Cas then, stares at him a moment, before nodding sagely.

“Let me rephrase: A _mental hospital_ ; demon ridden or not, is the perfect captive victim pool.”

“Sure.” Theodore cuts in, finally finding his opening. “'Cause who's gonna believe a patient when they say they saw a monster?” He spits hatefully.

“They're the perfect hunting grounds.”

* * *

I'm playing checkers with myself in the patient lounge when Dr. Fuller walks in, another doctor in tow. One I've never seen before. I wonder if they're a demon.

I move a piece, playing my part.

“King me!” I laugh.

The new doctor approaches me and I try not to tense.

“John.” I look up at them. “I'm Dr. Erica Cartwright. I've been assigned to your case.”

“You're my psychotherapist?” I try my damndest to smile seductively. “Lucky me.”

Dr. Cartwright opens up her file. “It would seem. And _you_ are my . . . paranoid schizophrenic with narcissistic personality disorder and religious psychosis.” She intones, closing her file with a smile. “Lucky me.”

I look down, the motion awkward but I need to school my features as I think. “Hm.”

“Can we talk?” She asks, sitting opposite at the small table.

“Yes. Actually, I've got some questions for you.” I say, all happy smiles and confidence.

“What a coincidence. I've got some for you, too.”

“Well, then . . . Quid pro quo, Clarice.” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth a couple times, imitating Hannibal Lector. That reminds me that I'm behind on Hannibal . . . haven't watched the entire last season. I can't wait to have free time and no one trying to kill me or my loved ones.

“Okay, Hannibal. I'll go first. How many hours a night do you sleep?”

We've already thought through our story. Sammy and I. So I say what we decided. “Three or four, every couple of nights. What can you tell me about the recent suicides in here?” Cas, Sammy and I have learned from Theodore and Meg that there have been a total of 10 suicides in the last two months. This isn't what we came here for, but it's important.

“They were tragic.” She says, and there's something in the sound.

Something that tugs at me.

We've been, each of us, making judgement calls on all patients and staff ever since Meg announced the wraith to us. This one's going on my list. No doubt about it.

That said.

My list's kinda bulky already.

But there's just . . . something about this one that unnerves me.

“But you haven't noticed anything . . . strange, like, uh . . . I don't know, black smoke or sulfur?” I ask, playing the part. Both Cas and Meg coached me.

“No. Why? What's that supposed to mean?” She asks, sounding genuinely confused.

“Demon signs. I hunt demons, monsters, that kind of thing.” She doesn't comment on that, simply goes on to her next question.

“How many drinks do you have a week?”

“I'm not of age.” I answer with an angelic smile. She simply smiles indulgently at me, urging me to continue. With a wink, I indulge her, remembering my father with both anger and sadness as I speak the words. “Well, _you know_ , gotta sleep sometime. So, uh, what's seven days times – mmm, somewhere in the mid fifties, I'd say. You ever feel any, uh, cold spots or get a chill walking through the hospital?”

Dr. Cartwright's eyes narrow dangerously. “Not that I can remember. If I had?”

“It means there's a ghost around.” I say with assurance.

“Okay. When was the last time you were in a long-term relationship?”

“Define 'long-term'.” I reply.

“More than two months.” She flips.

“Right now.” I answer with a grand smile, which seems to through her for a loop. “Have any of the patients reported seeing anything weird? Through windows or under beds? Or in mirror?”

Those eyes are staring into my soul now.

Suspicious and knowing.

“In here?” She chuckles. “All the time.” She answers, crows feet crinkling at the corners of her eyes. Brown eyes fierce and inspecting.

I smile back at her sweet and kind and innocent.

Yeah. She's just jumped to the top of my list.

* * *

Dr. Cartwright doesn't let me go easy.

She follows me when I go to the nurse's station for my noonday meds.

And stands beside me while I loiter at the corner of the nurses' station, watching people walk by every once in a while by glancing up at the round mirror on the ceiling. When she walks up and joins me I resist the urge to look at the mirror right away.

“What's up, Doc?” I greet.

“You tell me. What're you doing over here by your lonesome?”

“Hunting. A wraith, actually. Could be anybody.”

There's a glitter in her eyes, a tightness to her features. “So, _I_ could be a monster?”

It's now that I check the mirror and see . . . that she's completely normal. 

“No, you're clean.” I answer her, but . . .  _how does she know that a wraith's a monster?_

“Why do _you_ have to hunt monsters? Why not let someone else do it?”

I shrug, smile. Thinking of actual hunters and the stories I've heard since finding out about this human subculture. “Can't find anybody else that dumb.” I make like I'm pondering for a moment, before continuing. “It's my job. Somebody's gotta save people's asses, yours included.” I finish, realizing with a start that in another universe, I _would've_ been raised a hunter and everything I've said today would have the potential of being true.

Huh.

“Is there a quota? How many people do you have to save?”

I shrug. “All of them.”

“ _All of them?_ You think you have to save everyone?”

“Yep. The whole wide world.”

“How?” _By killing my grandfather, probably._

I don't answer, just look at her.

“Believe me, whatever you've got, I've heard weirder.”

_I think I'm gonna go with the Apocalypse angle._ “It's the end of the world, okay? I mean, it's a damn Biblical apocalypse, and if I don't stop it and save everyone, then no one will, and we'll _all_ die.”

“Oh no. That's horrible.” She mocks.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I say, faux annoyance in my voice.

“I mean, apocalypse or no apocalypse . . . monsters or no monsters, that's a crushing weight to have on your shoulders. To feel like six billion lives depend on you . . . God . . . how do you get up in the morning?”

I stare out into the hall for a moment, contemplative.

“That's a good question.” _I wonder how people with that mentality actually_ do _feel._

That's when Dr. Fuller walks up to us.

“Hello, John. How're you feeling today?”

“Doc.” I nod. “I'm feeling good, gotta say.” I answer.

He smiles before walking on.

When I look up at the mirror then as Dr. Fuller passes it, I witness a decaying face with matted hair. I push away from the wall, ignoring Dr. Cartwright's words as I watch Dr. Fuller walk down the hall.

_That's . . . not right._

* * *

On my way back to the room, I think over everything that's happened today.

The mirror showed that Dr. Fuller wasn't human but . . . Meg says that he was verified.

Multiple times.

So, either Meg's lying, or . . .

I'm not prepared for what I walk in on when I open my door.

At first my mind doesn't register what my eyes are seeing.

And then everything happens too fast to recognize.

Theodore's spread eagle on his bed.

Three nurses are surrounding him; two at his head and one at his feet. They're holding down his wrists and ankles, bloody and raw and pale, red fluid dripping from gashes slashed through his thin skin. His eyes are open, unseeing, his chest rising only slightly, betraying his continuing mortality.

My body doesn't work.

Won't move; either forward or back, as I stare.

It isn't until I drop _whatever_ is in my hand that the nurses are alerted to my presence.

And when that happens, they turn their heads at me.

Eyes black like snakes, their hisses deafening as they bare their fangs. And suddenly there are tails sprouting from their spines like scorpions, tipped with needles that could carve out an animal's heart then skin them raw; reminiscent of The Wasp's stinger s. They hover, swaying, pointed toward me in stand-off with eyes pinned on me like predator on prey.

_ Wraiths. _

“John, John, John,” A voice behind me  _ tsk _ s, pouring ice in my veins.

It takes every ounce of strength in my body for me to turn and face the voice.

Dr. Cartwright is standing their with pitying eyes.

“I truly wish you hadn't seen that.”

* * *

I don't remember running away.

But suddenly I am.

And I don't know how long I run for, but I run. And run. And run.  
And fall against a wall. And feel heavy and muddled.

I try to look 'round me, but my neck doesn't seem to want to move very much.

The hallway seems to spin, floor feeling liquid and quakey. The lights when I look up are blinding, spinning and nauseating. On the floor are droplets of blood that lead down the hallway. _Oh, that's my blood . . . how did that happen . . ? when . . ?_ I push off from the wall with weak knees and weak elbows, or rather, I _try_ to push off from the wall, but I begin to fall instead, landing on my wobbly knees and rebound against the wall before I see the floor come up to greet me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me


	8. Dean, Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this feels A. rushed or B. awkward. Also, sorry that it took so long, I've been working hard on some original works the last few weeks :)

When I wake up . . . everything's . . . white. A blinding and cruel white.

_Oh. I'm in one of the padded cells._

I'm lying down. On a bed in a padded room. If it weren't for the restraints the bed itself would be comfortable, but as I try to move my limbs, to relieve the haze of my head, I find that my ankles are strapped down; as are my wrists. And there's a strap around my abdomen and another across my thighs.

The door opens then.

And in walks Dr. Fuller, smiling that professional, I-will-eat-your-soul smile.

“Hey, let me go!” I yell with cotton in my mouth.

“'Fraid I can't do that. Dr. Cartwright informs me you've uncovered far too much to be out there in the real world.” From behind the doctor appears Happy Nurse; again decked in his dandelion scrubs – brandishing a syringe full of clear liquid.

Not good. Not good not good not good AT ALL.

The Doctor's hands are on me then; checking my pulse and eyes and mouth with a thorough frown before he stands back up. He gives me a pitying look.

“You are of no use to us. And as such, Nurse Wraithen will take care of you now. I hope you enjoyed your stay at _Glenwood Springs_ , I truly do.” 

Wraithen. Nurse _Wraithen_. WRAITHEN. _WRAITH_. Fuckin' hell.

Dr. Fuller grins then, wide and sincere with eyes saying he's sorry and 'I wish I could watch as the fight leaves your body but unfortunately I have other business to attend' before he turns and leaves the padded cell.

And then I and Happy Nurse are alone.

And all I can see is the look of disinterest in Happy Nurse's eyes as he plasters a wide cheshire smile on his handsome face.

There's a malicious glint in his eyes as he steps forward.

He's not Nurse Ratched, but he has no problems taking orders from her.

The medical restraints starfish me, leave me open and vulnerable, make me feel like a sacrifice as Happy Nurse steps closer. Then he's just THERE. His face in mine, his hands on my skin. He's not even being subtle now as he gives me a thorough once over.

I'm not sure if I'm more worried he's gonna take advantage of me or if he's gonna shoot me.

But then his hands are at my stomach and he's lifting up my patient scrubs to expose my belly and my incoherent babblings of “No,” “please,” “stop” turn into something more solid and concrete and _violated._

“STOP! _DON'T TOUCH ME!_ ” I fucking _shriek,_ there's a twist in my gut and a tug in my chest and an ephemeral _pain_ in my extremities, but my mind is sudden _clear_ and my voice is _loud_.

And then the hands are gone.

And Happy Nurse takes a step back.

They shake their head, like ridding themselves of a foggy thought, face scrunched up in confusion, till they step forward again, syringe held at the ready.

“ _NO._ ” I bite out.

And they stop still again.

Their eyes are uncertain and look out of focus.

I can do nothing else except tilt my head to the side to observe them. My terror's dwindled down to anxiety ridden fear with curiosity and apprehension as side dishes. 

_ What the hell is going on? _

With another shake of the head the nurse approaches.

This time my voice is simply firm. “No.”

And as there's a tug and a twist inside my body, they stop.

I breathe. Swallow. And think.

This time my voice is shaky, wobbly and uncertain because I'm about to try something that isn't real.

“You will remove these restraints and leave the cell with the door open.” I venture.

The nurse stares at me, syringe in hand.

“You will remove these restraints and leave the cell with the door open.” I command.

The nurse continues to stare at me, syringe in hand, and I feel like a complete idiot; then “I will remove these restraints and leave the cell with the door open.” He intones. Voice monotonous and robotic.

With a steady hand the nurse unstraps and unbuckles me from the exam table. The limb restraints have left noticeable marks but I ignore the damage to instead watch him as he leaves.

“ _And you'll drop the syringe!_ ” I yell in harried afterthought.

“Aannnnd I'll drop the syringe.” He echoes, dropping the drug filled needle to the floor as he leaves the room.

Door. Wide. Open.

I allow myself the luxury of three glorious,  _deep_ inhales ( _Thank. You. Rey_ .) before getting off my ass and running the fuck away; snatching up the syringe as I escape.

* * *

_Cas! Cas if you can hear me I'm pretty DAMN SURE I'M IN THE BASEMENT._ The problem with Praying to an angel is that the angels don't reply.  _Dr. Fuller is EVIL and some of the nurses are his cronies, I don't know if they're demons, humans, or something else, but beware of them. I've escaped the cell they had me in – it's a long story – and am searching the halls, looking for Adam. Please find me, they tried to inject me with something. I don't know what it is but I've confiscated it; it's my only weapon. Send reinforcements._ I pray over and over again.

Some of the cells have little windows on them, others are metal with indents in their surfaces and then there are just plain wood.

I put my ear against each and every one of them, looking into the windows thankfully when I can.

Though what I see makes me less thankful.

But still more so in that Adam isn't in one of them.

But then not, because that means I haven't found him yet.

In the doors that I can't hear anything through or see into I test the knob.

Some are unlocked, but the majority aren't.

I don't find him.

Once reinforcements arrive, we'll check the rooms I couldn't by myself.

As I scurry and search my mind flitters through different scenerios where we're able to get everybody out and get them all to safety. 

Michael, Lucifer, and other angels and others are being called in to accomplish that.

It's not my job though. 

And I think Meg's lieutenant in this whole mission.

I turn a corner then, and turn pale as a sheet, whipping back 'round the corner to hide, PRAYING that they didn't see me.

Peeking my eyes around the bend, I see Dr. Fuller and Happy Nurse. Happy Nurse looks a little nauseated, like he's afraid he's about to be burnt to a crisp. Probably worried about what Dr. Fuller will do to him when he finds out he wasn't able to finish the job with me.

Yeah I can see him being executed for that.

Happy Nurse takes a keyring from his belt, isolating a bronze one and, like a good dog, unlocking the metal door with no window in front of which they stand.

The door opens with a heavy _whoosh!_

From inside a whimpering sound arises.

My heart clenches at the sound. 

Dr. Fuller's voice drifts through the door as they enter; deceptively kind and calming. “The nurses tell me that you're not taking your medication.” I creep forward, pressing gently against the metal and keeping the door open just  _that_ much. “Do you wanna tell me why?” 

And my heart nearly breaks at the imprisoned patient's voice. 

“I can't, Dr. Fuller.” The voice sobs.  _No. nononononononononononnononoooononononNO._ My mind is screaming and my eyes are tearing up and my chest is constricting, caving in on itself. And then the voice continues and my sorrow turns to fury. “The pills make me sleepy, but _I can't_ . If i sleep, it'll come.” 

Adam.

_Adam._

ADAM; my _good_ , _sweet,_ _littlest_ , _not-much-more-than-a-kid_ brother, _weeps_.

“ Now, we have talked about this.” Dr. Fuller condescends.

“But . . . but it killed Annie.”

“It did.” There's no sympathy in the doctor's voice. “But my brethren killed your parents. Which do you fear more?” A wail erupts from my baby brother's strained vocal chords. “You remember them, don't you. Figures of white marble with pearlescent wings. Did you see him? Lucifer, the brightest of them all? No. I don't think you did. I think you bore witness to the beasts of the pit. I saw you, afterwards, I patched you up, remember? If it weren't for me you'd be beyond recognition, unable to function rationally or even coherently. So bloodied and battered and punctured through with thick horns.” Adam's voice is a constant barrage of soggy hiccoughs, badgering my ears with the thick sounds of misery and desperation. “ _So_ thick. They barely even fit inside one so small as you, didn't they?”

There's no answer besides rapid, broken panting.

“Humans believe you're schizophrenic. That your mind plays tricks on you. That you got confused. Because sometimes, you see things. Some think that you killed your parents and replaced the memories with a nightmare. Others simply think you're faking. But we know better, don't we?”

I want to kill him.

I _need_ to kill him.

My body's physical demand to rip out the doctor's intestines and drag his body through the mud using those guts as a lead, to drown him with a slashed out throat so blood gurgles from wound and mouth, two identical slits in his skin simultaneously oozing out like ink, is nearly impossible to resist.

“I know what I am.” Adam's voice drifts, subdued and desolate. “I can see my dad standing right behind you . . . but . . . he died . . . and AND I _KNOW_ what I saw.”

From down the hall a sound carries to my ears, whipping my head 'round to catch it, I startle, eyes wide and breathing incredibly irregular. At the end of the hall there stands a little kid with his back against the wall. Their eyes are trained on me, head cocking when they see me see them.

It's all too _Psycho_ for my sensibilities. 

The kid stares at me as I listen to the voices inside the room.

“I know he's not real.” Adam's voice is crushed, wet and giving my heart a squeeze. It's taking everything in me to keep my _eyes_ on the kid and my _ears_ on my baby brother. “But the monsters . . . _they_ are real. I know they are.” He sobs.

Then a squeak on the tile floor grabs my attention and I jerk my eyes back to the room.

With a glance I notice that t he little kid is gone, _SHIT FUCK WHERE ARE THEY?_ and then the sound of footsteps coming closer begins to resound in my ears and I start to sweat because FUCK SHIT HOLY CRAP ON A CRACKER because I can't run. I can't get out fast enough. I'm gonna get caught.

DAMN KID.

But then just as the door opens, just as I'm about to be revealed, a hand lands on my shoulder and a warmth spreads over my body and then the door's open and I'm still on my knees beside it and Dr. Fuller and Happy Nurse walk out and – 

Don't. See. Me.

They walk right passed me.

I watch them walk away with suspicion and surprise. 

With a glance back, I find out that the hand on my shoulder belongs to the kid who disappeared.

I stare at the kid for a good few minutes before they finally make eye contact with me. They look . . . unconcerned? Like this were an every day occurrence.

_WHY THE HELL IS THERE A CHILD HERE?_

“What's your name, kid?” I hiss.

“Jesse.” They answer at a perfectly normal volume, like they aren't the least bit afraid of getting caught.

_Who_ is _this kid?_

And then the kid has to go on and get even more creepy. “You're brother will be fine. I know he will be, because I believe he will be, and everything I believe truly will be true.”

I chuckle; incredulous and a little scared. “That so? What else do you believe?”

“That you'll escape. And that you'll live.”

By this point I'm surprised I haven't frozen like Sapphire after saving Ruby from being broken.

'Cause I swear I could get stuck to the ground by ice crystals right about now and never move again and it'd be totally normal. Yep.

“And you?”

“I just told you.”

“No, what'll happen to you?”

“Oh, I'm only here for you.”

Uh. What? 

“What do you mean?”

“I escape from my cell months ago. I've been off surfing.”  _ what?  _ “I only returned to this place because I felt your presence, cousin,”  _ cousin?  _ “and I don't know how I knew but I  _ knew _ I had to help you.”

So many mysteries, so little time. No wonder Scooby and the Gang made it their life's work.

“Am I gonna like what I see inside this room?”

“No. You haven't and won't like anything you see in this hospital.”

“Your speech is more mature than you appear.”

“You don't know me.”

“True.” I answer, pausing before taking a deep  _ deep  _ breath. “Is it safe to enter?” I ask, immediately and instinctively just  _ knowing  _ that I can trust this kid implicitly. I don't know WHY and something tells me that I never will.

“Go inside,  _ now _ .” They non-answer.

I stand, turning away from the kid and pushing the door open with a low creak.

Once fully opened, I turn back to check on my companion, but find them completely gone.

Again.

_Stupid. Disappearing. Supernatural._ Kid _!_

Obviously I'm not at my best otherwise I would be able to come up with an insult other than “kid” but that'll just have to do for now because it's time to be an adult and face the music and enter this room and see my baby brother and see what they did to him and not just hear his voice and look at him face and see the hatred in his eyes for me because it's MY FAULT that his parents are both dead OUR dad and HIS mom and though I didn't like her SHE WAS HIS MOM and I need to offer him my head on a fuckin' platter for screwing up 'cause if it wasn't for me the Alphas wouldn't have been exposed and MY MOM wouldn't have been exposed and he would've gone on with life without having to deal with any of this supernatural crap and GODSBEDAMNED FUCKING HELL FUCK ME

I need to breath.

Fuck I need to breathe so bad.

I need to inhale.

ONCE. TWICE. THRICE.

The air is stale and cold and clings to the white walls.

It takes me four more breaths to work up the nerve to actually push the door open and peer inside. 

But then there's _Adam_.

Dejected and turned away in his bed where he's strapped down with leather straps on his wrists and ankles and thigh and chest like I was before I Jedi-mind-tricked my way out.

But his straps aren't newly belted.

They've been there for a while. 

There're IVs and monitors and . . . a catheter.

SHIT. How long has he been just . . . _laying there_??

He doesn't turn his head, doesn't give any indication that he notices my arrival as I inch my way farther and farther into the room, _closer to him_. And then I'm there, with his strapped arm no more than a few inches away and my tall body looming over him and I can see he's tense and I can see his eyes are closed. His breathing even.

Calming himself.

Trying not to panic.

“Adam.” I've never seen eyes _snap!_ open so fast in my life.

They're trained on me in a heartbeat. His lips move, testing and trying till finally a disbelieving “Dean” falls from between their folds.

Red flashes across my eyes, the fantasy of blood dripping from the doctor's throat, chest, wrist, thigh. Any and all major artery.

The fantasy is disturbed only by the twitch of Adam's fingers in my peripheral vision.

“I'm getting you out.” I say around a cotton wad.

Adam's entire body goes lax at those words, allowing me to easily undo his binds. Thankfully there are no locks to fiddle with, 'cause I don't have any lock-picks on me at the moment.

When the binds fall away, blue bruised wrists are revealed and nasty scars uncovered.

_Fuck._

_Watching the massacre really wrecked him._

The gang and I'll have to do major damage control once free of this place.

_Cas, get your feathery ass down here!_

* * *

It's good that Adam's small.

But it's bad as well. 'Cause he's shouldn't be _this small_. Last I saw him he was gaining mass, lean muscle and growing taller, but he's lost weight, he's too skinny from lack of nutrients and I don't know if it's from them starving him or him starving himself.

I'm scared to ask that question.

But he's small enough that I can carry him piggyback no problem, when not even a year before he'd outgrown it.

The halls are empty as we creep out of his prison.

At first I think it's from lack of . . . watchers?

But turning a corner informs me that I'm wrong, because scattered around the hallway are a number of nurses laid out flat. I stop short at the sight.

It's only the feeling of eyes on my skin that makes me look away from their motionless bodies.

The kid; Jesse, is standing at the end of the hall.

Their eyes are amused.

And it's fuckin' creepy.

The kid turns down a hallway, disappearing out of sight. AGAIN. I follow after with steady steps, making sure to A. not jostle Adam too much, and B. not step on any of the corpse-LIKE bodies. Reaching the hallway, I'm not surprised to find the kid completely gone.

“What's with that kid,” I mutter, but inside I'm thankful for their aid.

* * *

It's as we're making our way out of the basement, when we don't pass anyone else by, when we don't set off any alarms, that alarm bells start ringing in my head, that a knife twists my gut with dread. _It's too fucking quiet. Where is everyone? Did the kid do something?_

For some reason . . . I don't think this is the kid's doing.

Not this time.

That feeling intensifies when we walk into the hospital proper, escaping from the basement's hold. It's just a simple doorway, but walking through it sends a rush of _wrong_ over my skin.

I suddenly feel _not safe_.

Even though I hadn't realized I'd felt anything close to safety in the basement.

I shake my head, trying to throw away the feeling. It's useless. My mind races as I carry Adam through the hospital.

* * *

“John!” Sammy's voice shouts out. I whip my head around, finding Sam and Cas jogging up from the rec room.

I realize belatedly that I don't even know what time it is.

“Dean,” Cas hisses as they reach me, and that's a red alert right there.

“What is it? What's wrong?” I whisper, made frantic by their anxious energy.

“We don't know.” Cas answers.

“Is this Adam?” Sam murmurs, voice sounding kinda . . . _awed_.

_What a way to meet your little brother, huh?_ “Yeah, sorry, he's a little tired.” I try to make my voice sound light, even attempting a smile, but I'm sure it's not very effective. I sigh big and hard. “Is our escape ready?”

“Yeah . . ?” Sam answers, but his voice is uneasy. “It just feels . . .”

“Too easy.” Cas adds.

“I know.” I KNOW. “It's making my gut churn.”

“Mine too.”

* * *

As we make our way to the back of the hospital, I learn that Cas' hadn't received any of my prayers. He looks wrecked by the fact, apologizing profusely and hyperventilating for a split-sec with the realization that I had needed assistance and he was none-the-wiser. We'd had to stop so I could bury Cas' face into my neck and instruct him to “take deep even breaths” before we could continue to our escape. That's when everything becomes a little . . . not so easy. 

When we reach the hospital butt our first altercation presents itself.

Dr. Fuller appears literally out of nowhere. 

He just steps out of a doorway and into our path.

And I just groan.

_I knew it was too easy._

“Well, now, where do the three of you think you're running off too.” Dr. Fuller taunts. His face twists for a moment. “My mistake. The _four_ of you.”

“We're just gonna take our little brother and go.”

“Ah, we were waiting for you elder Winchesters to appear.” The Doc mutters. “And you must be one of the angels.” He adds, eyes only for Castiel.

“Yes,” Cas bites out.

“Why don't the four of you come to my office to talk?”

“How 'bout _no._ ”

They sigh. “Well then, how about we speak in here?” Dr. Fuller opens a door to his right, revealing an empty exam room, eyes hard and just daring us to defy him.

“Lead the way,” Sam smiles.

* * *

The exam room is sterile and eerie in the dim light. Dr. Fuller steps in and sits in his assigned chair without flicking on the light.

I'm really not okay with that.

Seeing him sitting their watching us from the dark is a big NO from me.

Cas seems to feel the same, cause he flicks UP the light switch with an attitude, his lips pursed and his brows furrows as his slitted eyes hawk at the doc.

I love him.

Adam's still asleep on my back.

When he fell asleep, I don't remember, but I think it was the second he was settled. I don't think he was even awake to see the aftermath of Jesse's take-down in the basement. I keep more than half of my senses trained on him, trusting Sammy and Cas to handle Fuller.

At first, it's just words.

Words and a tension in the air.

I keep my eyes trained on the door, not wanting anything to get at our backs. Not without our knowing.

I keep my eyes on the door, my touch on Adam, and my ears everywhere.

That is, until a commotion has my attention narrowing.

Cas' voice is rising.

He's angry. No. FURIOUS.

But the first words that really penetrate my mind are “GET OUT!” And at first I'm confused because yeah, we're trying to get out, Dr. Fuller knows that, that's why we're here. But then Cas continues. “GET OUT _OF HIM!_ ” And my head whips 'round like a lash.

Dr. Fuller's still there.

Sitting in his assigned seat.

He's still got that patronizing smirk that all Doctors' have got down pat.

Except his eyes are black as night.

_Fuckin hell._

He IS a demon.

But . . . no, Meg told us that he wasn't.

“Oh, don't worry, I've not been in here long. This body is still alive, Dr. Fuller's having the time of his life in here.” He chuckles, tapping his skull. “This is the first time I've met any of you. I'm merely running errands for lord Alistair. Simply coincidence, is all this is.”

_ Bullshit. _

The demon's grin widens.

Then crumbles as a wave of cold heat (I know, I know) ripples (literally _ripples_ , I can see them, in the air like shockwaves in a river) through the air; like pulses.

And the demon's eyes widen, before their lips pull back and they hiss, baring their fangs.

Shit, right, _demons who can possess humans leave a physical change in said humans_. I recite the information I'd learned during our research, trying to help myself to understand and keep a handle on my emotions.

Sam's voice starts up then and I can't understand a word.

But the Dr. Fuller demon sure does. He lunges at my little bro, but doesn't get far before he's falling to the floor in a writhing mass.

Their shrieks are gruesome.

As is the black miasma leaking from their every orifice.

I grimace.

Cas turns to me suddenly and _blink!_ is gone, but then there are hands gentling Adam off my back. “Meg is waiting outside. The wards have been disarmed. I will get Adam to safety.” He lists off before _blink!_ he's gone and Adam with him.

My eyes never left Sammy; watching his shirt as it clings to his skin, sweat beading down his neck, breathing heavy and staccato.

His chanting's never ceasing.

I don't know when he learned it, but I'm glad he did.

The exorcism is doing it's job nicely.

* * *

Meg's standing guard outside the exam room where Dr. Fuller's empty body now lays.

Dr. Fuller _should_ reappear, but if not . . . I don't know. I don't know how to feel about it. But the human soul _should_ take back control.

That's all we can hope for.

The demoness looks us over with disinterested eyes before handing me a heavy envelope.

“Info on the ones who hurt your younger brother,” She tells me, before turning on her heel. “The door at the end of the hall is your exit. Good luck.” The demoness calls over her shoulder, hand gracefully reaching out and pulling the fire alarm.

The blaring siren of it nearly deafens me but her walk stays confident and strong. _Sure_ as she disappears around the hallway's bend.

* * *

Sammy and I burst out the side door, the alarm bell still ringing, and run full-on towards the parking lot and the woods. 

The woods where Cas and Gabriel and the other angels have Adam safe and sound and _alive_.

* * *

“That took less time that we'd anticipated. Did you have trouble?” Lucifer asks as we make it to the rendezvous location.

And yeah no.

I'm not okay. I don't feel okay. And I KNOW that something, somewhere along the way should've gone wronger than it did. But no.

“NOT ENOUGH!” I answer, kinda panicking. “NO! THAT'S WHY I'M FREAKING OUT! THAT WAS TOO EASY. LIKE WAYYYYY TOOO EASY AND I'M FREAKING OUT!”

“It's like they wanted us to get him.” Sam adds with a worried expression.

“Maybe they did . . .” Gabriel wonders aloud, tapping at his chin as he gives still-sleeping-Adam a once over. “Ya'll ever thought of _trackers_?”

Aaaaaaaaaaaand SILENCE.

That is, until Lucifer's indignant shout of: “FUCKING HELL!” rings through the air.

I _KNEW_ it was too easy.  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOOOOOOOO this took so long because it was feeling like it was going way too fast and that it was wayyyy too easy for them to rescue adam but then I realize that they would totally have Adam tagged in order to find the Alphas and Dean is not Hunter-Extroardinaire in this verse so he would totes fall for it XD


	9. Olly Olly Oxen Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short and subpar but the next chapter will be Adam being introduced properly to the Novaks and getting settled in. :)

How do you track a tracker?

That sounds really redundant.

Let me start over.

How do you . . . find out if someone has a tracker inside of them? Like, how do you search out a tracker inside someone's body?

To answer that . . . we had to ask Charlie.

But of course, doing this over the phone or via skype or through text wasn't gonna help so instead Michael flies back to Forks in a _blip!_ and returns with her in tow.

“What's up, bitches? And I mean that as a compliment 'cause female animals are vicious and strong as hell and I respect that.” I roll my eyes at her long-winded introduction. I also expect her to continue on in a string of questions but when I look over at her I see her eyes wide and staring at something over my shoulder.

When I glance over I see Adam's limp body in the bed.

We couldn't take him back to Alaska.

Not chipped.

In the back of my head I'm constantly expecting whoever's after us to just APPEAR at our hotel (we've switched to one in Wyoming) and . . . I don't even know what they want with us. I know they want to kill the Alphas but . . . 

I just don't know.

Anyway. Charlie's eyes are getting dewy now.

“So, you think you can find his tracker?”

She swallows before striking a haughty pose. “You kidding? I can totally do this.” And then strides over to the head of the bed, standing beside Adam's head and producing an instrument from her bag. 

One which she then begins hovering over his body.

“Is that a metal detector?”

“Yes. Gotta start with the obvious.” Gabriel snorts from  _somewhere_ . “Zip it.”

_She's got a point._

The detector doesn't  _beep!_ , however, no matter how many times she traces it over Adam's limp body. She pulls it away from his body and turns to the rest of us. “Alright, who's next?”

My brows pull together. “What?”

“Adam wasn't the only one in the hospital. Was he?” She asks with  _a look_ .

_Oh_. Damnitt.

I stand up. “Let's get this over with.”

She goes over me, then Cas, then Sam, finding all of us free and clear according to the metal detector.

“Alright, that method's a bust.” Charlie says, putting the device back in his back and pulling out something else. “On to the next one.” In her hands is a mtal case. “And I should warn you; this one's gonna hurt. Just a bit.” She warns, opening up the case and showing off what's inside.

Syringes.

“Oh fuckin' hell.”

“This one's not a human method. I asked a friend who's a witch to get it for me.”

“You did that in just a few minutes?”

“Oh, no. Chuck warned me I'd need this a few days ago.”

I turn to Cas now, with a look that I hope says: “Are you flippin' kidding me?” He just shrugs, probably used to his foster dad doing things like this.

“So what does it do?”

“It's a compound that will search the body from the inside out for foreign  _anything_ .” 

“Will it hurt?”

“Oh, most definitely.” She says with a smile.

GREAT. I don't reply, merely stick out my arm and roll up my sleeve expectantly, cringeing in anticipation. But Charlie purses her lip and shakes her head. She motions to the bed, and although I furrow my brow in confusion, I heed her and join Adam on the bed. Laying down and getting comfortable, I wait for her to inject me with the  _whatever_ . 

“Try not to scream.” She warns.

The fuck?

She finds the vein easily with Castiel's help and sticks my arm quick and fast.

She injects Adam next and then moves to the other bed, where Cas and Sammy have laid down.

At first, I don't feel anything. Nothing's different, nothing's slithering through my veins looking for the enemy, nothing's curing me from the inside out.

I start listening to the clock's ticking. 

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

_What the absolute FUCK._ “OW!” I scream. NOW it feels like there's fire blazing through my veins. Like a war's waging within my body. After a minute of writhing I force my body to relax, thinking about Kali's flames and how, if I could survive them, I can survive this. Around me, I hear and feel everyone else who got injected screech and thrash,

A muffled chuckle sounds from somewhere and I don't know if it's from Charlie or Gabriel.

At some point, the door clicks open and the room gets a little more crowded. 

“Are they alright?” Phantom voices begin to speak.

“They will be.”

“Does this mean that they're all infected with trackers?”

“I'm gonna guess, yeah.”

“I don't think it would have any affect on anyone not infected.”

“ _Infected_ ?”

“You know what I mean.”

“How long is this gonna last?”

“Who knows. We'll just have wait it out and see.”

_ Oh. Joy _ . 

* * *

Three hours. IT TAKES THREE FUCKING HOURS FOR THE FIRE TO DISSIPATE.

And by the time it has Adam has had to be held down and all of our mouths have been bound by angel magic and I've had Cas had to engulf me in his wings and cradle me to have me calm down even just the slightest.

His Grace acted like a kind of balm on the flames.

Making them more volcanic than solar.

A small mercy.

But once those three hours are up the burning is doused in an instant. It almost gives me whiplash. A lot of things have been doing that lately.

Yknow that pain you get when you have to wash your hands with ice cold water and then try to warm them up by changing the water to hot and then that scalding feeling where the hot water rushes over your cold skin and leaves you tingling and your skin prickling and it's both a relief and a torture? That's what it's like.

And when it's over, Adam shoots up in the bed with a frantic look in his eyes.

He jerks his eyes around, landing on each and very person in the room. His eyes widen and widen with every person he sees.

“What's going on?” Adam's voice quivers.

“Uhhh, that's a long story.” Gabriel pipes up.

I groan as I sit up, the movement and the sound catching Adam's attention. The kid gasps and veritably _leaps_ on top of me. “Dean!” He shouts, burying his face in my shoulder and squeezing me like a vice. “You came!” _Fuckin' hell his grip hurts._

“Of course we came,” I murmur, stroking his hair and holding on right. Someone comes up behind me and leans over my shoulder.

“Hey, Adam,” It's Sammy's voice. I glance over at him. His chin is almost resting on my other shoulder. His eyes are concerned and he's looking between Adam and me, unsure how to move forward.

“Yo, Adam, there's someone you should meet.” I mutter, gently pressing against him. He lifts his head, eyes dewy and red. Sammy smiles down at him, but Adam's eyes furrow. “Adam, this is Sam.” Adam's eyes stay furrowed for a second, but then it's like a light-switch is flipped and suddenly his face is lighting up and he pulls away and just STARES at Sam.

And Sammy stares back and smiles. “Heya, little bro.” 

If I thought Adam's eyes were wide before, they grow to saucers when Sammy straightens up and stands tall. 

“Woah,” he points at him. “Will I be that tall one day?”

I shrug, “Maybe not _that_ tall, Sammy's a giant, and he's still growing,” I answer, staring up at our brother with both envy and annoyance. Fuckin' _Sasquatch_. Sincerely.

“Alright, alright, I know this is an important moment for this brotherhood but we gotta check the magics,” Charlie interrupts, walking forward and waving  _something_ around in her hands. “This is a . . .  _detector_ thingy.” She informs us.

“Thanks for that explanation, that was very informative.” I snark.

“Bite me,” Red smirks. 

With a groan, I get off the bed, one foot after the other, and pull Adam with me. Once standing, we sway a bit, being held up by whatever angels are around us. Adam flinches a few times at the contact, but I'm grateful for the help, since my youngest brother is now clinging and leaning heavily on me.

“The hell did you do to us, Char?”

“Hopefully, I got rid of your tracers.”

“ _HOPEFULLY?_ ” Gabriel bites.

“Just let me do my job,” She grumbles, holding up that  _thing_ again. It  _kinda_ looks like a metal detector but I know it isn't and I just don't have a name for it. Charlie whacks the thing against her hand a few times, totally reassuring me that she knows what she's doing, then holds out the  _thing_ to touch Adam's skin.

Nothing happens.

“Oh good.” She says. “That means the tracker's gone.” She states, then goes to me, Sammy, and Castiel in turn and tests each of us. “No trackers detected, all eradicated.”

“Eliminated first try, good work.” Luci's voice drifts. 

I roll my eyes before staring hard at the thing in Charlie's hands. “So, what would've happened if you'd touched us and we were still tagged?”

My question is met with a pregnant silence as Charlie turns her back on me and puts her things away. Silence, and more silence. Till finally: “Well, now you don't have to find out.” I share a look with Cas. What the hell? It couldn't be worse than what the shot did to us . . . could it? Yknow what, I don't wanna know.

“Welp, that's one crisis averted.”

* * *

Crisis not fucking averted.

We're coming up with our next move, all of us crammed into the hotel room, when the door slams open and Michael storms in.

Bloodsoaked and pissed.

Adam's scream is bloodcurdling.

Gabriel's scream is ear-splitting.

But whereas one of them retreats, the other rushes forward to make-sure the red-stained angel is alright. Which he is, as he shows us by whipping off his shirt. There are no wounds or even scratches.

“WHAT HAPPENED?!” Luci wails right on Gabe's heel.

“Demons,” Michael spits, grabbing the closest fabric he can find and beginning to sop up the mess he's bathed in. It's someone's shirt. Mikey's head whips around, seeking something with an angry glare. His eyes land on Charlie, whose sat cross-legged on the bed with wide-eyes trained back at him as well. “That thing you did _._ _Didn't. Work._ ” He bites.

She swallows.

Then gives a very sheepish, guilty smirk. “Time to try again?”

“Ya think?” Gabriel shrieks.

Charlie only bobs her head in answer, scrambling to the bedside and grabbing her bag. Which she then empties on to the bed.

So many things fall onto the comforter which I don't know or understand.

“I came with a lot of options,” She says with a flourishing display. “So lets get crackin'!”

And the hell continues.

* * *

Twenty. Charlie came equipped with TWENTY possible de-tracking solutions. I'm just gonna list ten of them here though because a few are too traumatic to remember – there are some scary magics out there y'all, and I hope none of you have to deal with the one's I did. You already got to see the first magical attempt, so you might understand. But here are mostly the non-magical de-trackers.

 

Some of the funn(i)er possible de-trackers were: 

      1. The good old classic body search, including a few cavities, though I distinctly had to put my foot down when it came to searching ALL of them.

      2. Drug-sniffing dogs

      3. Bomb-sniffing dogs

Because you can never be sure one won't find something the other may not

      4. _Blink!_ ing into a hospital and using their X-ray machines.

      5. _Blink!_ ing into a hospital and using their MRI Machines

Same sentiments as with the dogs




 

And some of the not-so-fun possible de-trackers were:

      1. Bomb detectors

Because Charlie had to lovelyly point out that they might not have put trackers inside us but EXPLOSIVES which she didn't inform us when she called in the bomb-sniffing dogs

      2. Heat sensors

"You never know they could give off a different heat signature! You. Never. Know!"

      3. Did you know that Michael has a friend with x-ray vision? Well he does.

      4. Sounding

No, not the sexy kind. They . . . like . . . used vibrations to search our bodies? I don't know how to describe it.

      5. Inspecting our bowel movements

Just . . . don't ask.




 

Did you know that I made that list arbitrarily and most, if not all, of the above methods were just as fun/not-fun as the others because the entire time I was worrying about trackers and bombs and PAIN because of the first failed attempt?

Well, now you know.

Oh, and those twenty weren't all the tricks she had up her sleeve, oh no, Chuck had also given her some angel-know-how and she convinced the angels to do a . . . body search.

BY USING THEIR GRACE TO SEARCH OUR BODIES.

BY STICKING THEIR HANDS INTO DIFFERENT PARTS OF OUR BODIES AND EXTENDING THEIR GRACE OUTWARD IN SEARCH OF THINGS NOT  _US_ .

Thank the gods Cas was there.

I mean, I love the others but I wouldn't want any of them besides my angel searching around through my body.

Not like THIS.

It feels like . . . like that pressure diving too low creates in your ears? It felt like that in my chest. Almost as terrifying as going on a plane but more invasive. The pressure moved and breathed and had a liveliness to it that squirmed inside me and made the pressure behind my eyes build and my lungs contract and it was a horrible experience I don't recommend it.

So Gabriel searches Sammy.

Castiel searches me.

Lucifer searches Gabriel.

Michael searches Castiel.

And then Michael also searches Adam; because Michael's the most cool and collected of us all and is able to talk Adam through fear and stress as Lucifer, Gabriel, and I tell him jokes and try to get his attention on us.

And it was actually this. 

This, our very last option, that saves us.

That finally, FINALLY, finds the damn trackers.

Well, not necessarily _trackers_ , as we find out, but rather parasitic creatures that according to Lucifer look like Khan worms but act differently. For one they burrow into the soul and not the ear and instead of taking over someone's body and controlling them for another's purpose they simply hitch a ride and relay information about said person, creature, to their controller. 

Thankfully though they can't access memories.

Only things a person or creature does while the worm is riding them.

Stomping that thing to goop is very satisfying, I gotta tell you.

All that said, Adam's been having a hard time through this whole ordeal, so Michael encourages him to take a sleeping pill and go off to sleep while we take care of the worm extermination. Once complete, we pack up once again and _blink!_ out of Wyoming.

Maine; here we come.

Just until we're all sure it's safe to return back to Alaska.

Which, unfortunately, won't be for another month.

_ Oh. Joy. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive been working on my original stories so much ive been neglecting this story even though I love it, I promise I won't abandon it :) and it's ALMOST SUMMER (about a month and a half away) which will hopefully mean more updates XD
> 
> Question, though: if I were to sell books on Amazon would anyone buy them?


	10. Fighting for Freedom!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank the new Steven Universe episodes "Super Watermelon Island" and "Gem Drill" as well as my rewatch of season 3 of Avatar: The Last Airbender, without them this chapter would not exist as it is.

Serious question, what would you do if you had more than one traumatic experience and suddenly learned about the experience of the supernatural?

I know what I did, but my “traumatic” experience was nothing compard to Adam's.

To cope with everything that happens, Adam begins learning how to fight.

It's a few days after we've settled in Maine, Adam having cooped himself in a room by himself for three days after arrival, when he suddenly banged his door open and stormed into the living room where the rest of us were relaxing.

He stormed in and paced in front of us, mumbling and pulling at his hair until finally, he turned to us with hands on his hips, taking in a deep breath before he let his thoughts out.

“I want you to teach me to protect myself,” He blurted.

He'd said it straight to Michael's face.

I've never seen Mikey's eyes so wide or him so surprised.

But no one could deny Adam's request.

So the next day we all packed up and went to meet an old friend of the Novaks.

And the brutal training begins.

* * *

Okay so we went to get Adam trained, but all ended up training beside him.

Adam's first time shooting a gun doesn't go very well, but he gets better.

When they first get to the shooting gallery we're each handed an unloaded gun and taught promptly how to properly load it.

Adam's looks down at the gun like he's afraid of it.

A good thing to be but not when handling one . . . most likely.

Giving Adam a reassuring pat on the shoulder Lucifer goes first, putting on his safety gear then firing his gun twice; hitting one of the targets in the chest both times.

“Alright!” I cheer.

“Now, Adam, when you're able to hit the target, we'll move on to the next activity.”

“N-no prob-proble-lem.” Adam stutters, stepping up to the divider. Poor guy aims, wavering. He uses his other hand to steady the gun, but when he shoots, he still misses his target entirely. On both shots.

He sighs, looking defeated. I give him a gentle pat on his shoulder. “Don't worry, it's your first time, you'll get the hang of it.”

“Yeah, man! Give it another shot!” Gabe says, smiling.

So Adam does.

* * *

After two days Adam's become more confident with the firearm in his hands, and when we arrive at the gallery he grabs the gun without hesitation and fires two shots, closer than before and more steady but still not quite hitting the target.

But he smiles.

“Close enough.”

* * *

And two days after _that_.

He hits the target in its chest.

“On to the next training,” Michael intones with a smile as everyone cheers.

* * *

The next training is apparently martial arts.

Specifically; self-defensive martial arts.

Even more specifically; Krav Maga.

To start with.

Yaknow in movies how there'll have training montages where the main character becomes a master of  insert martial art and/or weapon here  and then they save the day with their inherent skill in whatever?

Well that's not how training actually goes.

Training is hard and takes time. So. Much. TIME.

And yeah, everyone has a talent, but no one's Skywalker lucky.

I wish we were 'cause damn, that'd make life easy.

I mean, seriously? He was the biggest I-can-do-anything-perfectly-the-first-time wet dream there ever was. All he needed was the force.

And seeing as my angelic cohorts have "forces" of their own I was hoping they'd be unbelievably good at everything thrown at them. But nope. And it kinda makes me feel better about myself.

But like I said, everyone's good at something, and we find out everyone's talents in time. None of us become masters of anything, none the less everything, but it's good to know your strengths and weaknesses.

Cas is really good at putting up forcefields around me. (Apparently he's been practicing that incessantly since the Gabriel incident)

Lucifer's really good at hijacking peoples minds. (Something that he's not exactly proud of, judging from the guilty glances he keeps sending Castiel)

Michael's really good at giving orders (which we already knew) and keeping Adam calm (which everyone had suspected).

Sammy's insanely good at researching. (Brainiac that he is, couldn't be prouder)

Gabriel's good at eating and making us want to barf at his heart-attack inducing, diarrhea looking experimental recipes.

Charlie's good with computers. So good that I wonder how she's never gotten into trouble with the law... Actually, scratch that. There's no way she hasn't. Unless she's THAT good. But i haven't found out yet.

Adam's got determination. He's good at finding a goal and getting what he wants.

I'm good at . . . Something. I guess, i mean, statistically I have to be good at SOMETHING.

But we havent found out WHAT yet.

Anyway, that's what we're all good at.

Please note that none of those were weapons (except maybe Lucifer's, which can really fuck someone up) or martial arts.

Thats because none of us has innate talent in those subjects.

But we're learning and slowly picking them up.

Overall though we've all kind of adopted that "better to be good at a hundred things than perfect at one" (or whatever the saying is) mindset.

* * *

When we're not training we're trying really hard to keep Adam's mind off of what happened.

We don't mention dad, we don't mention Kate.

It may not be what we're supposed to do, but the few times we did at the beginning he would flinch and start to panic.

Bringing either of them up seem to be triggers, so we've been avoiding the topics.

It took a while to find something that he could focus on that wouldn't make him flinch or look into every shadow around for hidden threats, but we found them. But even those few things had triggering moments within them that we all look out for.

Would you like some examples? Well either way you're about to get them.

 

EXAMPLE 1: Rose Quartz, Steven Universe (SU)

First mention of Rose Quartz' death had Adam clutching Lucifer's hand.

The grip loosened a bit when he found out _how_ she “died,” but it didn't disappear.

 

EXAMPLE 2: Greg Universe, Steven Universe (SU)

Greg reminds him of dad.

I'm not entirely sure why. But he does.

Thankfully, though, Greg has become an opposite reaction after the first two episodes with him. He's starting to enjoy those episodes instead of wanting to yell obscenities at them like he did the first time. He got a lot of anger at dad out during “Laser Light Cannon.” So much so that later on, after Greg had grown on him and stopped haunting him with thoughts of dad, he asked to rewatch it incase he missed something important the first time around.

 

EXAMPLE 3: Forced Fusions, Steven Universe (SU)

If you haven't figured it out, forced fusion is rape.

And Adam mirrored Garnet to a T during “Keeping It Together.”

 

EXAMPLE 4: The Cluster, Steven Universe (SU)

Adam was sitting between Sam and I at this point, neither of us _too_ close to our little brother – not boxing him in between us or pressing into his personal space.

“I'm glad Garnet didn't see the Cluster,” Adam breathes after the episode (“Gem Drill”), “because I'm afraid she would have broke. Or at the least, come undone.”

Sammy and I exchanged glances and moved in just a little closer to our baby bro.

 

That was Steven Universe. Then it was Avatar: The Last Airbender .

 

EXAMPLE 5: Monk Gyatso, Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA)

The second Monk Gyatso's remains are uncovered Adam paused the episode and walked out of the room for a breather. When he came back he watched another minute before standing back up and pulling Michael out of the room without pausing the show. After 3-5 minutes, after Katara had managed to calm Aang down from the Avatar state, they returned. After that, those of us who'd already watched the series watched out for and tried to remember scenes that may hurt him.

And we gave him trigger warnings before certain episodes.

The worst of which being "The Puppetmaster."

 

EXAMPLE 6: Hama, Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA)

This episode we should have skipped.

But Adam wanted to watch it. He knew if he wanted to watch Legend of Korra then watching this episode would be a good idea since season one has ample amounts of bloodbending. However, Hama was an exceedingly bad trigger.

Katara's reaction to being forced to bloodbend? Might have been even worse.

Adam bawled through the entire fight scene, but whenever Gabe would try to turn it off he'd yell at him that he wanted to keep going. That he could do it and that he wasn't weak.

* * *

I have a bad feeling that dad hammered that behaviour in to him. I know he hammered it in to me and Sammy, I was just kinda hoping that since Adam was older than Sammy and me and that he hadn't had as much time with him that he hadn't had the time to hound it into him.

It looks like I was wrong.

We all head to bed at 3 AM after finishing up "Sozin's Comet, Part 4: Avatar Aang," and vow to start Legend of Korra on our next free day.

* * *

Then, after three days of Netflix and Incessantly Make Sure Adam's Alive and Breathing On His Own, we go back to training.

And, before anyone says anything about “how could we fit all of Steven Universe AND Avatar: The Last Airbender into two days?” I'll just tell you.

At the mome- there are 80 episodes of Steven Universe aired.

Each episode is roughly ~10 minutes long.

That's around ~13 hours. Give or take three hours.

Then there's Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA).

Each episode is about ~30 minutes and there are 61 episodes.

That's in the ballpark of ~30 hours, give or take.

Together it ranges from ~43 to ~50 hours.

Totally and completely doable in 3 days.

That is, when you've got angel mojo on your side.

And angel mojo is great for making sure you feel awake after going to bed past three in the morning and having to be up and out of the house by eight. It's better than coffee or a cold shower, I'll tell you that.

Around eight we head to our classes.

And Adam wipes the floor with all of us.

He doesn't stay down, he doesn't let any of us defeat him. (It helps that the angels are forbidden from using their powers in this situation, instructors orders – who, btw is a supe as well)

And he doesn't show any emotions.

That last one may not be a very good thing, but after last night I think he's ashamed of his reactions. Something Sammy and I should talk to him about. Try and get him past the “John Winchester” mindset and into a healthier one.

Unfortunately, I don't know how to do that.

Besides, of course, slow and gentle.

Hopefully it'll unwind itself naturally.

The training seems to be helping. Instead of keeping it all bottled up he's letting it out in kicks and punches and therapeutic yells.

Today we're kickboxing, and his smaller size seems to be advantageous.

I say that 'cause he keeps punching _up_ into my sternum. The little shit.

He _keeps_ punching there. In. The. Exact. Same. Spot.

That's one of his talents, we've found out. Hitting the same spot over and over and over again.

After class one day I decide to ask him if he things it's a useful talent, and if so which areas he'll aim for. His reply was to look me dead in the eye, anger burning deep, and say: “I will hit them in the genitals each and every time until they're bent over begging for me to stop.” There's more, an implication that I swallow at and can just imagine him saying: _and I'll laugh in their face_.

And then he walked away from me and I was left with the hollow feeling that I'd failed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant for this to be longer but I think this is enough for now?
> 
> Also, I would like everyone to know that I'm sorry for the chapters coming so slowly. I've been working on Original Works more because I wanna start publishing my work and unfortunately, even though I love this story, it is impossible to publish XD **that said, I'm still continuing with this story, for myself as well as for ya'll.


	11. Come Bee With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In the last few months I've watched the first 11 seasons of Pokemon
> 
> 2\. I've never been to Alaska. 
> 
> 3\. I want every one to know right now that I hate kissing. I HATE kissing. It's disgusting. Very VERY rarely will I kiss someone on the mouth. I also think the sound is disgusting and am known to mute during shows and movies when there's kissing. I'm also known to skip kissing scenes in books because it's just GROSS and makes me queasy. That said. I'm also feeling incredibly sex-repulsed lately - courtesy of my birth control - and have been not wanting to write sex-scenes and I almost didn't have one here BUT THEN I found that I had already written it! It was just in my bits and pieces document

There're 3,200 miles between Maine and Alaska, and yet it takes no more than a minute for the angels to fly between the two. But when I ask about going to Hawaii, apparently that's too much for them to handle.

Specifically. Michael. 

Who apparently ALWAYS bypasses water. 

_That_ was an interesting discovery.

A discovery that Adam makes when he tries to help me talk Michael into moving the safehouse to Hawaii. I just kinda wanted our next destination to have warm weather and sunny beaches instead of blinding snow. Michael had hedged around the topic, looking the most uncomfortable I've ever seen him.

Adam had overheard my question and kept his ear open to hear Michael's reaction. 

Michael'd looked _so_ uncomfortable.

At first he'd simply, outright declined: “No.”

So I'd tried pleading. “Please,”

“No,”

Then I'd tried a guilt trip: “Please, I've always been afraid of flying in airplanes and now that I've got angel mojo to help I really wanna go.” With a pout.

I'd heard Adam snort from around the corner, but ignored it.

Michael, however, glared in my littlest brother's general direction.

Then turned that glare back on me. “I said no, Dean,”

“Oh come on, Mikey, why can't we go to Hawaii?” Adam finally intervened, coming 'round the corner with an amused smirk on his face. “I've always wanted to go to Hawaii. And . . . no one should think to look for us there.” There was a pause where I could swear a shadow fell across Adam's eyes. I think, in that moment, he was remembering Alaistar.

I really hope not, but knowing my luck, he was.

Michael says no again. So what do Adam and I do? We say please A LOT.

“ _Please_ Mikey.”

“Pleeeeeaaaaaase!”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top!”

“M _iiiiiii_ chael,”

“I SAID NO!” Michael finally YELLED, surprising both me and Adam. Neither of us having ever heard him raise his voice before. His cheeks are tinged pink and his eyes are a little erratic, his breathing a bit hectic. 

Looking _cornered_.

Adam and I stare at him aghast.

“Woah, Mikey, we didn't mean to upset you.”

He wipes a hand down his face in a defeated manner, giving out a heavy sigh. He looks so over _everything_. “No, you guys didn't do anything wrong.” Pacing from foot to foot, he argues internally with himself before apparently losing the battle. He then mutters something so low under his breath it's impossible for us to hear. 

“Pardon,” Adam and I blurt; in sync.

Clearing his throat, he says it louder: “I don't fly over water.”

“What d'you mean?”

Staring hard at me, he repeats it again. “I don't fly over water.”

“Why not?” Adam asks.

To which Michael looks even  _ more  _ uncomfortable. “It's called  _Aviot_ _halassophobia_ . It's the fear of flying over water. ”

We stare at him.

I don't know why Adam stares at him, probably for the same reason as me; which is because I'd never even thought that such a fear was a possibility. Never the less, that it would come from an angel who flies as much as they can. And who  _ enjoys _ to fly.

“BUT HOW?”

Michael cringed. Then sighed, rubbing at his temples in exasperation. “It happened when Luci and I were sent to separate boarding schools.” He started.

And I REALLY didn't need him to finish.

I could gleam the rest.

Unfortunately, Adam hadn't heard the story yet, and knew nothing about the Novak's past.

So Michael felt inclined to explain in full.

Including everything about Kala.

I'm gonna skip most of it, because I've already told you most of it, and get to the parts that I didn't know. Mainly: “Our boarding schools were separated by a state and a lake, and when I escaped to go get him, I flew straight over. Or at least, I tried to. But we weren't as fast then, and I was immeasurably tired. And between one wing flap and the next, I'd fallen asleep and fallen. I was woken up by the freezing water as I plunged in.” He pales at the memory, looking quite shaken. “I had to swim to shore and wait my wings to dry before I could continue on. It took hours and the only reason I even made it was because I knew I couldn't leave Luci alone.” He looks away from us, blushing and looking extremely sheepish.

It's the most embarrassed I've ever seen Michael be.

And neither Adam nor I had the heart to ask about Hawai'i again.

So back to Alaska it was.

* * *

Adam's never been to Alaska, and he's never been somewhere absolutely COVERED in snow, (Maine has some snow right now, but not AS MUCH as Alaska,) so I warn him of things I wished the angels had warned me about before my first time.

Like how, if you step out of one of the angels' . . . grace-spheres? You'll freeze. Because THEY are what's keeping you warm.

I warn him of how BLINDING the sun is on the snow. Snow blindness? I think it's called.

I tell him that the igloo's are actually warm inside.

Which I learned because Gabriel likes to build them when he's bored.

Like I am, right now.

Cas has disappeared somewhere and it's just me, Adam, and Sam.

It's a little awkward, since Sam and Adam are still a little new to eachother, but they're being friendly, and brotherly, and happy. And it's good.

But after a while Adam gets tired of the snow and the three of us trudge inside.

Poor Adam falls onto the couch and doesn't get back up, facedown and snoring in the cushions.

I head to what used to be Cas' room; a room which I've staked a claim on as well. We've been sleeping in the same bed for quite a while. Though we barely do anything besides sleep and watch Netflix and _literally_ chill. Sam disappears somewhere in the cabin, the wind outside whistling. 

All the angels have gone _somewhere_ to do _something_.

I groan, hoping that the supes are safe.

I take a running start before jumping onto the bed Cas and I have been sharing. Glancing around the room, noting books and movies and games I try to find _something_ to do. But come up empty.

A note about this room that used to be just Cas': it's overflowing with bees.

Every inch is black and yellow and white. Bees liter every surface. There's a pile of bee plushies in front of one of the bookshelves, where a horde of bee themed childrens book are clustered. The plush bedding is black and yellow plaid, with four normal pillows and two bee Pillow Pets, one large and one small.

I snort at my angel's adorable obsession. 

Having not found anything I want to do, I turn on my side with the intention of SLEEPING, but, as luck would have it, feel something hard hiding beneath Cas' pillow. It's our first day back in Alaska, and none of the angels came inside before bolting again, so whatever it is must have been left from last time.

From before we went and saved Adam.

Pulling the thing out from under the pillow, I stare at it a good long while..

Then burst out laughing.

My laughter seems to grow, becoming its own entity as I curl in on myself, clutching the thing in my hand. When I peak open an eye to see it again, I screech with laughter.

The 3DS is custom.

Custom color and decals and stylus.

B E A U T I F U L.

Buzz the Bee's face stares up at me, face alight and excited, his thick honey wand held high like a victory trophy. The rest of the DS is a pretty gold color and the black stylus – OMG THE STYLUS IS A REPLICA OF BUZZ'S HONEYCOMB WAND.

My laughter can probably be heard in every nook and cranny of the house.

I have to wipe the tears away I'm so happy.

Although now I'm curious if the other angels have custom game consoles and WHAT THEY ARE. I'll have to do some snooping to find out. But I gotta focus on one thing at a time. And I'm focusing on THIS.

I flip the handheld open, the screen lighting up.

I realize suddenly that it had been plugged in the entire time it was under the pillow, the chord now half on and half off the bed from where it fell disconnecting. I tug on it to see where it goes, and duck under the bed to find an outlet there I hadn't known existed.

Along with a games case.

My smile is fucking painful.

Swiping the case, I straighten on the bed, unzipping it almost fast enough to break but not caring. When it's finally open I GAPE.

I know for a fact Cas didn't have a DS and that he didn't play any of these games when we met, so Cas must have been really bored during the months he was gone. _Apparently you can play games in Heaven_ , good to know. I know they said they weren't in ACTUAL Heaven _but still_.

In the case are a few Zelda, some Sonic, some _KIRBY_ , Mario _of course_ , Harvest Moon, Animal Crossing, Nintendogs, and Pokemon. 

POKÉMON.

YES.

I'm always down for Pokémon, and what with being on the run I haven't been able to play Pokémon Go without alerting the Men of Letters of my location. Curse them. 

So I grab Cas' Pokémon X – ignoring such games as Bee Movie and Shrek – and plug in.

As it starts up I wonder what starters Cas chose.

Maybe, because of his obsession with bees, he'd choose bug pokemon, and the closest starter type to bug is grass. So Chespin and Bulbasaur.

When the game's finally loaded, I go straight to his Pokémon.

Well, I was right, though his Chespin has evolved into Chesnaught and Bulbasaur into Venusaur.

Nor are they his strongest Pokémon. Oh, no. That would be his lvl 100 Vespiqueen. 

Followed by his lvl 80 Beedrill.

I'm not surprised. Not even a little, teensy tiny bit.

There's a shiny combee in his arsenal as well, but that's all. He's only got five Pokémon with him in his party.

Searching through his items I find a Beedrillite and a Venusaurite.

Oooooh, I've never battled using a Mega Beedrill  _ or _ a Mega Venusaur.

Smirking, I get down to business.

* * *

I don't know where the last seven hours have gone.

But I have defeated the Elite Four and evolved three Eevee.

I've added Leafeon to Cas' collection of high level grass-type Pokemon.

Somewhere along the way I got curious and snatched up Cas' laptop and the external Harddrive that I know Gabriel bought him specifically for movies and shows. And, much to my delight, found all seasons of Pokemon in the mix. With a good twenty or moreepisodes tagged with a yellow bookmark.

Those twenty favorites turn out to include some of my favorites as well as some of my least favorites or episodes I merely refuse to watch for personally reasons: 

  * S1E10 “Bulbasaur and the Hidden Village” (Which, let me be honest, Hidden Village just reminds me of Naruto and I'm sad I haven't found a “Pokemon an Ninjas” or “Naruto as a Pokemon” mash-up thing. Furthermore and only slightly related to that thought: I know Naruto would technically make the most sense as a Ninetales but am I the only one who thinks Naruto would be a Raichu or Pikachu? I mean, baby Naruto was such a little shit like the Pichu brothers it makes sense, right?!).

  * S1E21 “Bye, Bye Butterfree” – oh no no no we don't talk about that episode or any other episode where Ash or one of the others says goodbye to one of their Pokemon. EVER. It's not something you do. Those episodes don't exist. Ash still has butterfree, and Pidgeot, . Misty still has Togepi. AND JESSE AND JAMES STILL HAVE ARBOK AND KOFFING AND CACNEA. Don't get me started on the episode that doesn't exist where James gives Cacnea to Gardenia. – aka an episode I refuse to watch for personal reasons.

  * S1E51 "Bulbasaur's Mysterious Garden" which is just a completely gorgeous episode.

  * S9E9 "The Green Guardian" which I respect because CELEBI – and makes me wonder if he's got the Celebi movie somewhere in his harddrive (I hope so 'cause I kinda wanna watch that later).

  * S9E15 "Odd Pokémon Out" which is cute and I totally ship Tropius and Meganium (Sorry Sceptile).

  * S10E31 "An Angry Combeenation!" which is the most unsurprising since it's literally all about a hive of bee pokemon.

  * Oh and look, S11E2 "Once There Were Greenfields," where James DOES NOT give Cacnea to Gardenia and DOES NOT make me cry.




Going along with Cas' bee-theme, I choose S10E31 "An Angry Combeenation!"

The laptop's sat on the bedside table where I can just see it out of the corner of my eye. I'm mostly just listening to it and glancing every now and then between battles.

The door slams against the wall. “What are you doing!”

My head whips up at Cas' voice. He's standing in the doorframe, glancing between me and the laptop with wide eyes. Shame and mortification paling his tan face.

I smile from ear to ear.

And he jumps on me.

I yell, rolling quickly into the wall. He lands on my back, hands flailing as they try to wrench the custom 3DS from my hands. I roll into myself like a rolly-polly, hunching over the game and continuing my battle.

“ _Excuse_ you.” I laugh as he tries to unwind me. He grunts. “Wait your turn.”

Behind him someone starts yelling in the episode.

“ _D~E~A~N~!_ ” He whines.

I ignore him, instead focuing on my battle. My opponent uses Psychic, so I use Hyper Beam and prepare to change Pokemon.

_Pop! Blink!_

The 3DS is gone. So's the body at my back.

I stare gobfounded at my suddenly empty hands.

“YOU ASSHOLE!” I yell, rounding on my assbutt of an angel. He's perched on the desk across the room, staring at his 3DS with appraising eyes. He pouts. “HEY! Did you hear me, Asshole? WAIT. YOUR. TURN.” I leap from the bed.

_Blink!_

_Bang!_ My hands slap against the empty desk. I groan.

When I turn around, he's sitting butterfly on the bed.

“What did you _do_?” He asks, pressing more buttons.

“I strenghtened your team.”

He presses _more_ buttons. “You did a great job.” He admits. Then pauses. Then glares daggers at me.

I smirk.

“You renamed my Bayleaf _Naked Lady_?”

“It's a Meganium now.”

He sputters. “It's a Hibiscus not an Amaryllis!”

I smile. He turns back to the game, eyes searching the screen. Then glares bombs at me. “REALLY?”

“Of course.” I may have taken the time to go to the Name Rater once or twice.

Or ten times.

Bayleaf's new name is Naked Lady.

Venusaur's new name is Venereal.

Vespiqueen's new name is Bee Sexy.

Combee's new name is Bee Mine.

Beedrill's new name is Piston.

And my Leafeon's name is Seeder.

“Assbutt,” Cas growls.

Laughing, I join him on the bed. Pushing him on his back and straddling his hips. He holds the 3DS over his face as a barrier between us; still pouting.

“C~a~s,” I singsong. He steadfastly ignores me. I roll my eyes at him. “You know I did well.” I coo, liquifying down across his chest. I lay my head on his collarbone, forcing him to move the 3DS a bit. He's forced to either set it down on my head or keep it raised. He sets it on my head. “ _Cassie_ ,” He glares at me. I smile back.

And he sighs.

“Yes, you did well.”

“Hah!” I shout, leaping forward to plant a huge smacker on his chin.

He lets his arms fall away, laying the 3DS down at our side.

Cas' face is still pouty and annoyed, but he lets me kiss his exasperation away.

The Pokemon “Ending Theme Song of the Season” shouts from the laptop.

“These songs get worse and worse by the season.” Cas mutters between pecks. I hum.

“That's not true, Season 11's theme song is actually not bad.” He hums in reluctant agreement, arms tightening around my waist as he tugs me closer. Tight against his chest. My arms wrap around his neck.

It's when I pull back from our next kiss that I notice what he's wearing.

I snort, laughing at his ridiculously.

“I think, on your next birthday, I'm gonna buy you a doorsign with LGBeeT on it.” Yknow: 

I smirk, pulling apart the folds of his trenchcoat to reveal the yellow and black striped long-sleeve shirt beneath. After a moment I realize it also actually reminds me of Charlie Brown's iconic shirt. Or a yellow version of Steve.

I wonder if I could find him a yellow Blue.

He groans, though he actually looks pleased by the birthday gift idea.

I chuckle at him.

When Adam walked into the room a few hours ago, he'd taken one look, turned a full circle, whictled. Then flat out said: “I think Castiel may need an intervention,”

I'd laughed and told him that apparently the angels had done just that during the few months they'd been gone. He'd nodded and asked what the final straw had been for the angels to have taken it that far.

From what I'd been told; the last straw had been a pair of bee underwear.

From my many searches of the room and how much I spend time with my angel I've found and seen that he has at least one bee on his person at all times. Whether others can see it or not. I have no doubt that if he ever gets a tattoo, it'll be of a bee.

Bee themed clothes that Cas has and wears on a regular basis: Bee from Bee and Puppycat's sweater. Multiple pairs of Socks. Multiple pairs of nderwear. A hand sewn bee patch on the inside pocket of his trenchcoat. He also has a nice pair of shoes with bees all over them, the beauty of white converse and artistic creativity.

Thankfully he knows when is too much.

Because Gabriel – after the intervention that didn't lead to anything except them accepting that of all the things he could be obsessed with, bees are a non-evil and can be let to be – got him a pair of jeans with BEDAZZLED BEES ON THE BACK POCKETS. I was only told that little tidbit after I found them rolled up in a ball and thrown into the back of the closet.

Cas had turned beet red and assured me he's never worn them.

If nothing else but for the fact that they're bellbottoms.

I wanted to burn those pants.

But then thought that maybe it could be a fun Halloween costume piece, so threw them back into the black-hole closet.

The only thing that the intervention did was ask that he limit himself to one bee item per day.

Not because they're embarrassing, but because bees are like Cas' calling card, and if enough supes notice, it'll be a beacon everytime he's out and about. And we don't need a beacon while we're lying low. We want the complete opposite.

Though now that he's home he can totes put on his bee pajamas.

He has a bee Kigurumi and it's fantastic.

I, cool guy that I am, have a Reptar one thanks to Charlie. I don't know how she did it, but I'm happy she did because Reptar is the shit.

I was shocked when I walked into Cas' room and saw all the bees all the first time, till I realized bees act as my angel's safety blanke t. Now, seeing how happy and giddy Cas looks when talking about the little buggers, they make me happy.

“Where did you go?” 

“To see Charlie and the others. School's gonna end soon and they asked to visit our hideaway.”

“Sounds fun,” I've missed Benny and Charlie the last few weeks, even though spending time with my brothers and our angels has helped ease that ache. “But that's still a few weeks away, what should we do till then?” I ask, grinning mischievously.

I have some very specific ideas about how we could possibly spend our time.

All of which ignore the actual problems of our lives: ie the Demons who killed my father and hurt my little brother and who have alluded to Sam and I maybe not being completely human and my grandassholefather in the corrupt Men of Letters who want to kill my Alphas.  _ POINTEDLY  _ ignoring all that.

Peeking up at my angel from beneath my lashes, I kiss Castiel's collarbone.

And my poor Alpha's breath catches.

Straddled over his hips, I savor the feeling of his cock thickening beneath me to strain against his pants. His adam's apple bobbing and his breathing going shallow as his eyes dilate. Then a switch is flipped and my demure angel's grin turns bestial. His demeanor doing a full 180°. It's my all-time favorite thing to watch this angel go from straight-laced and innocent to the sexual deviant I know lays just beneath the trenchcoat. The angel growls, flipping us, pinning me beneath muscle and feathers and crashing his mouth to mine.

* * *

Surprisingly, throughout our entire relationship, Cas and I have never had a conversation about limits or safe words. A HUGE oversight on both our parts. One we don't notice until we're both naked and tugging quick and fast at each other's cocks and Cas trails a finger down my taint and presses _just a little_ against my hole.

He then paused and pulled back, staring at me. 

“We didn't talk this through,” No, no we didn't.

Probably a good idea.

So we do.

* * *

SAFE WORDS. Oh lordy are safe words important. It doesn't matter what kind of sex you have, vanilla, sadistic, or otherwise. Any and all types of sex and sexual acts NEED safe words.

Personally I think they're the second most important.

The first being consent, of course.

So, Cas and I exchange and negotiate safe words.

Cas are the starter-kit;

Go = Green

Slow = Yellow

No = Red

Whereas mine _were_ :

Go = Tic

Slow = Tac

No = Toe

Cut down and chosen from _this_ list which I painstakingly thought out:

Go = Ride/Cowboy/i suck at this/Tic/i REALLY suck at this/Halo

Slow = Planes/Tac

No = Clowns/Toe

And which was a complete train wreck.

Anyway, my original safewords; _tic_ , _tac_ , _toe_ , Cas unceremoniously threw out without a second thought. He literally took one look at the paper and tore it into 4 halves.

Then took out a brand spankin' – yeah, I can't wait for _that_ – new sheet of paper and made me start over.

_Now_ (with Cas' approval) my safewords  are:

Go = Drive

Slow = Shift

No = Brake

(My _original_ original green, before the whole _tic_ , _tac_ , _toe_ fiasco, was _Impala_ but Cas pointed out that when we eventually have sex either inside or with her – * insert blush and hysterical giggle here * – that it would become confusing.)

After our exchange of safe words, Cas and I settle again onto the bed.

I'm anxious and I _want_.

But we don't have sex.

I'm impatient to get there, sure, and so's Cas.

But I think that this is better.

_This_ is a test of trust, doing this for the first time.

It's been a fantasy of mine for years.

If I'm shaking while getting undressed, then that's from excitement. I am _in no way_ nervous. Cas' hand skims my hip as I bend over his lap, pushing my jeans down and kicking them off. His hands cup my hips, fingers gentle and commanding and rough.

_Fuck_.

In this situation, Cas is Dom.

Next time? Who knows. Though, _honestly_ , I think it's an excellent role for the angel.

Anyway, now, _now_ is what's important.

“Count the hits,” He commands, smoothing a hand over me cheeks.

The first hit is thunderous, the pain like lightning, shockwaves of pleasure tingling up my spine from the epicenter.

My breathing is labored and heady: “One,”

* * *

_I'm out of my head, hurry, or I may be dead!_

Okay, so maybe right now isn't the time for bad cult classic references.

But all I can think of is _Cas_.

Cas' hands turning my bottom into a black blue and red mess, making my legs give out and my head fill with heaven.

Of the feel of his cock dribbling pre-cum against my belly.

All I can think of is Cas shoving that glorious piece of anatomy inside me, hips pressing pain and pleasure into my bruised backside as he floods me with his thick, creamy cum.

It takes a lot of strength for me to move from his lip onto the bed. I have to take in a long breath before I find the strength to lift onto my knees. I press my chest flat on the cool bedsheet. I whimper as my fingers touch the mottled, overheated flesh of my ass, gasping as I spread my cheeks for Cas' eyes.

His inspection. And his fucking pleasure.

His breath hitches and he stills. I can't even hear him breathing anymore, but I can feel his eyes scorching my skin.

“You sure?” Cas isn't in Dom-mode as he asks, he's just Cas. Good and considerate angel boyfriend. Being considerate and sweet to his anal-virgin boyfriend.

But I'm still in subspace. “Yes, please, _Babe_.”

His snarl is anything but human.

* * *

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck me_.

Cas is inside, so deep but it feels like he's _growing_. Like he's going _deeper_.

My eyes are wide because I'm choking on his length, feeling like I'm going to implode. I can't take anymore but I still _want_.

I need it deeper and wider and fucking _HOW_?

Cas is gasping and grunting and plowing in like a jack-hammer.

But then he stops, he's breathing heavy and he _stops_ , hands like vices on my hips and chest heaving and no no _NO_!

“Cas! Please! More!”

“I know, Babe, I know.” He murmurs, as much to himself as to me. 

And then the fucker is pULLING OUT!

“NO!” I scream and what the fuck?

“I know, shhh, I know.” Cas soothes, flipping me fast and dirty so I'm on my side, one leg tossed over his shoulder and the other pulled to the side, before entering me again and continuing like he never stopped.

But it's not enough.

“ _Cas_ – ” When did my voice become so desperate? “Deeper, please. More!” I _screech_ when Cas starts hitting _that spot_ with every other thrust.

And he's still growing and the feel of it is both the most arousing and terrifying thing I've ever felt.

“Cas,” it's as much a question as a plea.

“I've got you, Babe,” A few more thrusts and there's a new sort of pressure at my rim, making me whimper and squirm and not know if I want it or if I'm scared of it. He pauses, making sure I meet his eyes as he explains. “That's my knot, Dean,” He rolls it deeper to make his point, the feeling 'causing my eyes to roll. “Do you remember what we told you about knots?” I nod my head fast fast _fast_. Knots: Knots are an anatomical anomaly that Alphas have. Alphas only knot their mates. When an Alpha knots their mate for the first time it is accompanied by the mating mark – a bite _somewhere_ on the knotted mate's person. “May I knot you?” _May I claim you?_ I nod faster faster _faster_. He doesn't continue till I'm practically wailing at him to Drive Drive _Drive_ though. Then he grins catlike and fierce, rolling his knot closer closer _closer_. Each thrust puntuated by a bitten off word. “I'm. Gonna. Knot. This. Pretty. Little. Cunt?” The tears on my cheeks are hot and salty and fall with each punctuating, _deep_ , powerful thrusts, his cockhead ramming my prostate like a hammer, hips slamming my sore ass.

I come on his cock.

It's like an implosion, a flood of cum and tears and OW!

SHIT!

It's like someone stabs me twice. One in each shoulderblade, long, deep gashes that ooze blood but once the wound is done and it closes there's nothing but weight and bliss and then there's pressure. There's pressure in a place I've never felt before, out wide at my sides, above my head, pressing into the bed and Cas is snarling and jackhammering, knot pulling on my rim with every press and then he's in, the entire thing, the entire, _bulbous_ base of him is forcing its way inside and the stretch is divine in its pain, the rounded godliness of it pressing forcefully up against my button and forcing more than just a cry from my lips.

I come again with his teeth sinking deep into my neck in claiming.

His entire body is a reassuring weight against every inch of my own.

Tied inside me, he's filling me up fit to bursting, cumming in long, _thick_ turrents that make me feel like I've just been stuffed to the brim.

I guess that's 'cause I have.

My vision's whiting out. Somewhere between the most exquisite ecstacy and pain.

His hips are flush against the tender skin of my ass, raw from my spanking, and I whimper at the pleasure-pain, more tears slipping out. Then Cas' hands are soothing over the flesh, Grace infusing the touch.

“Shhh, you did so well, babe, take my knot so well. Feel so good around me.” The sentence cuts off with a gasp as I clench, his voice doing even more things to me, filling my veins with more want, and coaxing another stream of cum out of his godly cock.

The angel pants against my neck, licks over his bite, his mark.

Oh My Fuck.

He _claimed_ me. I can't help the giddy giggle that escapes my mouth at _that_ fantastic turn of events. Before this I hadn't actually let myself believe we'd ever mate. Always thought we'd get interrupted before it could happen.

And now that it has I think I want to scream in happiness.

Fuck how can my cock be  _ so hard _ AGAIN.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's not very heavy on the sexiness (and don't worry you'll find out later on how much care Cas took to open Dean up for his first time XD) 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you guys liked it!


	12. An Unexpected Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an incomplete chapter.

My happy high lasts a good minute, minute-and-a-half before I scream bloody murder.

Not because I just lost my virginity.

Or because I'm now _angel-married_ to Cas.

Oh NO.

It's because of my FUCKING WINGS.

BIG. LEATHERY. _BATTY LIKE WINGS_.

WINGS THAT WERE NOT THERE BEFORE WE HAD SEX AND NOW SUDDENLY ARE. I vaguely remember pain in my shoulders and the feeling of warm liquid gliding over my skin before I was overcome with euphoria but WHAT THE HELL.

Cas stares at them with wide eyes as I shriek.

OF COURSE. My shrieking catches the attention of our housemates and we soon find our door being kicked in and a multitude of intruders clamboring inside ready for war.

Adam shouts at the sight of Cas' bare ass, but everyone else is stone still.

Because, y'know, it's kind of hard to NOT NOTICE THE WINGS.

“Uhm,” Gabriel so eloquently blurts.

“SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!” I continue to shriek. My throats's really starting to hurt.

Cas is still tied in my ass, he can't move, and I keep squirming, fear and confusion wanting me to flee. My wings FUCKING FLAP and move and I AM NOT OKAY. Cas' hands are clenched tight on my hips to prevent me from tearing off him and hurting the both of us. His face is pale and he can't stop staring at my new UNEXPECTED appendages.

“Michael?” Cas squeaks, sounding like a frightened child.

The second-eldest Novak appears at my head and I stare up at him wildly.

MY WINGS flap wildly along with me. 

They tug at my back, the muscles working under my skin. I can feel their movement in my bones, like extra appendages. It's terrifying and my yells cut off suddenly at the feeling, my throat closing in like a fist.

My chest feels tight.

And it's getting difficult to breathe.

And I'm pretty sure I have tears running down my cheeks now like waterfalls.

Cas whines. He leans forward slowly to make sure he doesn't frighten me and laps at the salty liquid, cooing soft comforting noises at me as a few sobs escape my clenched throat.

Someone's fingers run through my hair and when I peer up I find Sammy inexplicably at the top of the bed, Adam by his side. They're staring wide-eyed at my wings, Sammy's fingers gliding soothingly through my hair as the angels study them. Everything's silent save for my ragged breathing.

Sammy meets my eyes and offers an uncertain smile.

Gabriel's low voice rings out through the quiet room. “We need to call Chuck,”

* * *

It takes Cas' knot an hour to go down. Once gone, however, he pulls out immediately, pulling me in to the bathroom to rinse off. My wings are covered in blood and something like mucus, a slick membrane surrounding them.

He pulls some off and puts it in a cup incase we need to analyze it (as Sammy told us to) then tugs me into the shower.

Though, we don't exactly fit well now.

We'd learned this lesson with Cas' wings but unfortunately whereas Cas can incorporealate his wings, mine aren't so easy. But we manage.

The shower has two heads, specifically BECAUSE of angel wings.

Which, Cas tells me, need to be cleaned like any other type of wing.

Although we've been showering together a lot since reuniting, he still needs to shower on his own every now and then to clean his wings.

The two shower heads are a blessing.

As is the fact that they're detachable.

Cas turns me to face one of the shower heads and positions himself behind me, taking the other shower head in hand.

The water is blissfully hot.

Cas keeps the water on my wings warm though, worried that too cold or too hot could damage them, and keeps the water pressure on his end loose and light, only turning it on halfway and gently cleaning me off. My wings involuntarily spread as the water passing over a tender point, jerking open and slamming against the wall and glass door.

I bite back a wail, sobbing into the water stream.

Cas curses, his hands coming up to massage the back of my neck in sympathy.

We stay in the shower for two hours, someone in the house taking mercy on me every time the water starts going cold by using their grace to heat it back up.

Bless them.

When we finally emerge I want nothing more than to dive under the covers and never return. However, I also want to keep Cas near me and unlike Mikey and Lucy's bed, Cas's isn't large enough to handle two sets of wings. Not comfortably. We learned that while knotted together.

So instead Cas takes my hand and we go out to the living room.

Where we find a plethora of people who by no means were anywhere near Alaska this morning.

Chuck, Becky, Mom, Mom Jody, Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Benny, Charlie, Ash, and even Gadreel.

All of them staring at me as if I grew a third, and then fourth, arm.

Because, OH YEAH. I HAVE WINGS. Might as well be the same things, huh?

I laugh nervously and even try to make a joke that my mouth says but my brain doesn't nor do my ears hear it so I don't actually know what it is all I know is that it falls flat but still my mouth keeps going on and on and on and on and on and on why thE FUCK WON'T SOMEONE STOP MY FUCKING MOUTH HOLY SHIT I can see Gabriel torn between laughter and tears and everyone's GODSBEDAMNED EYES are on my fucking wings and if there's was any sort of hole near me right now I'd make like an ostrich and stick my head in that thing so fast we'd all get whiplash and oh

Cas' hands are on my hips, his soft breath in my ear.

I don't know what he's saying, but the action is soothing and I let his voice calm my nerves.

It's as my anxiety dies down that I feel my wings fall loose and lanky and realize that they'd risen in defensive mode while I'd rambled and panicked and wow. They are going to give away every damn emotion, aren't they?

I steady my breathing with the help of Cas' sweet hand on my diaphragm and a steady mantra of in out in out in out that's it dean in out in out good boy. 

My angel's a good boyfriend.

Chuck's the first one to cough up the nerve to stand.

He looks nervous, glancing from wing to wing and then letting out a loud sigh. “This was one of a few possibilities.” He starts. And every godsbedamned head swivels to stare (or glare) at him.

“ONE of A FEW _possibilities_?” I clarify.

He ignores me and turns around, staring straight at Sammy. “Have you been having visions, Sammy?”

Sam's like a deer in the headlights.

And it's actually Gadreel that answers for him. “He _might_ have dreamed about Kali's death in the fire long before it happened.” Sammy turns that deer-in-a-headlights stare on his roommate, joined with a hint of confused-caterpillar eyebrows. “You may not remember, you hardly ever do when I ask, but you've been having nightmares for a while. But they're not – ” Gadreel _hummm!_ s, trying to find the words. “The first time it happened, I thought you were just sleep-walking. You got up and stood in the center of the room. You just _stood_ there. And then two nights later you did the same. But that time I decided to call out to you, but you didn't reply, not really. You _talked_ but all you said was 'it's so warm' and what I asked what was so warm you told me 'the fire'. This happened a few times, you just standing in the middle of the room in an dream-fire. Till one night I woke up not because of you moving around, but because of _smoke_. I thought you'd lit a candle at first, but after a minute I realized that the smoke was coming _from you_ like you were on fire. But you showed no signs of distress or pain, so I didn't interfere. It was the next night that there were actual _flames_. They didn't hurt anything they touched, though, so I disabled the fire alarms with my grace and kept an eye out for any problems. You were muttering something that night, so I tried talking to you again, asking what you were doing, what you were seeing. You told me 'the goddess is burning'. That was weeks before Dean's fight with Kali.” Gadreel finishes. Or at least, I think he's finished. But his face screws up while he's staring at my wings. “Sometimes, in the smoke and flames, there would appear the outline of wings.”

Sam's face is ashen.

Looking helpless and confused.

Chuck doesn't look very concerned. “I'll start teaching you how to remember your visions, if they're so extant already.” Sam jerks at the prophet's announcement, staring at him wide-eyed.

_The fuck?_

“What?” I blurt. Chuck turns his unruffled eyes to me. “That's all? Aren't you gonna ask _why_ he was getting visions?”

“I already know why.”

“Mind sharing with the class?”

“Do you remember what Alastair called Samuel?” My brows furrow. “He called Sam the Boyking.”

Right. _That_. “He also called him the antichrist!”

“Cambion. Yes.”

Yes. “YES?”

“You are both Cambions, Dean.” His eyes fall onto my wings. “Of a sort. You are also both Nephilim. Adam is also a Cambion, although to a much lower extant, and lacking the Nephilim aspect, that comes from your mother.” I stare. MOM stares. Everyone stares. Chuck sighs. “Somewhere in your father's ancestry is at least one demon; a powerful one, from the looks of it. While somewhere in your _mother_ 's ancestry is also an _angel_. It is the angel blood which allows you to manifest wings that take after your demonic essence, since demons are incapable of manifesting their demonic vestiges on this plane of existence.” I swear his words are going in one ear and out the other. 

I shake my head.

Then slap my cheeks.

Nope. I'm awake.

“So _why_ are my wings manifesting _now_?”

Chuck cocks his head. And we all wait with bated breath.

“I have no idea.”

If I had Grace I would probably splatter Chuck. As it is, a good wing-whack makes me feel a whole hell of a lot better.

* * *

I've mentioned that I HATE flying, yeah? Yeah.

So I just wanna make it clear that it took the angels 2 hours and the promise of a blow-job from _my_ angel for me to even _consider_ testing out my wings in that way. (Michael gave me a look that said pretty explicitly how he thought it was ridiculous for me to have wings and not use them for their intended purpose. Lucifer chimed in with a wide grin and cited penguins for his argument.)

I agree only after my blow-job bribe was administered (that sounds so clinical; like we did it in a doctor's office instead of in our bed).

Overall it took four hours for me to agree let them try, emphasis on TRY, to teach me how to fly.

There were a few key, important things we didn't consider, however.

Like how NO ONE ELSE HAS THE SAME TYPE OF WINGS AS ME. 

GODSFUCKMYLIFE

DID YOU KNOW THAT BAT WINGS SHOULD NOT BE USED IN THE FUCKING SNOW at least NOT when they've JUST SPROUTED from fucking no where and no one knows anything about them except that they LOOK BATTY?!

Which btb we looked it up and to survive the winter there are three main things that bats do: migrate, hibernate, and torpor.

We've sent Benny and Jo back to the Alpha Sanctuary in search of any demons who might be able to give some advice but, AGAIN, as Chuck said, demons are incapable of manifesting their demonic vestiges – which BTB INCLUDES BAT EARS AND FANGS which NOPE (although the fangs might be fun at some point but not right now I'm already freaked out enough thank you very much) – on this plane because this plane is inherently colder than “hell” which like how the angels' “heaven” isn't actually “Heaven” it isn't ACTUALLY “Hell” but is a place only demons can get to. Which OKAY I finally had to ask WHY THE FUCK Alphas don't just go to their respective species' “homelands” or chosen planes of existence to escape the Men of Letters and have been informed that many of them have lived on earth, and in the plane, so long that long-periods of stay in the _others_ can prove dangerous and even fatal.

So there's that.

But yeah, my wings are not supposed to exist on this plane of reality.

FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC.

They freeze like icicles the second we get outside and I had to have four angelic space-heaters using their Graces as heating pads or like a bubble of warm air as I flew.

Which WOAH NELLY that was something else.

Getting off the ground was . . . well it was rough.

We tried a few different ways. From me standing and flapping, to me running and flapping, to me  _jumping off the roof_ and flapping, and nothing work.

So what we did instead was that the angels carried me up, then Cas dangled me by my arms while the others circled us and I flapped until I was tired, trying to gain altitude with each beat. By the end I was drenched in sweat and no where near close enough to flying.

Charlie has a theory. She even worked out the math.

My wings  _alone_ are not enough to keep me aflight. They're too flimsy, the membrane not enough hold. My muscles also need to be worked out EXTENSIVELY, but that's not the point right now. She thinks that if I ever intend to fly that I'll need to use a little bit of supernatural mojo.

Awesome.

So for the moment, I'm grounded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an incomplete chapter -- it's not even everything I've written so far for this chapter and I haven't read through it for errors -- but I wanted you guys to have it. I have no idea when the next time I'll update will be. I planned to start updating when the Quarter ended, but that's not gonna happen. An hour after I turned in my last final yesterday I took my cat to the vet and found out that she was in critical condition and instead of letting her suffer I decided to euthanize her. I had her almost her entire 16 year life and I honestly don't really know how to function without my baby. So I don't know when the next time I'll write anything will be. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And I hope your lives are well!


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